


The Society for Witches and Sorcerers

by Carol_Molliniere



Series: Soul Eater + The Glass Scientists AU [1]
Category: Soul Eater, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantastic Racism, Fighting, Gen, Minor Character Death, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carol_Molliniere/pseuds/Carol_Molliniere
Summary: London is not a good place to be a witch, especially with the Death Scythes and aspiring young weapons and meisters at one's heels. But a genteel weapon named Henry Jekyll promises to change all that for the resident witches and sorcerers - and he just might succeed; if not for a witch wanting to throw him off his pedestal and bring some issues in his Society to the surface.





	1. The Sickle and the Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the fanfiction I've been hyping about ever since my early days within the TGS fandom: the Soul Eater + The Glass Scientists crossover!
> 
> This is only Part 1, though - I wrote out the outline and this story became ridiculously long, so I decided to split it into three parts. This first part can be described as the first act of the whole story, but I use the term loosely now.
> 
> Anyway, enough talk. Enjoy this alternate universe!

Night had fallen upon London.

As a mouse scurried through the streets of the city, two feet landed upon the ground. The person they belonged to stood up, the metal in his hand shining in the moonlight. He looked up at the moon itself, and grinned.

The moon was grinning back, just as it had always been.

With this smile still on his face, the man walked towards the door to a small pub, and opened it, before walking inside.

The various smells of a typical pub was the only thing that greeted him. On the other hand, the bartender and various other patrons looked up when he entered. As he stepped through the pub, the other people within stayed close to their companions, or their drinks.

The man smiled even wider, flashing dangerously sharp teeth. So many souls, all in one night...and they were all ripe for the taking...

He took the knife from under his cloak, and walked over to two people sitting at a table near the corner. They would be his first meal...

He took out the knife, raising it, and just as everyone gasped, he brought it down–

–but the hand of the woman he was aiming for turned into a sickle blade, and blocked the blow.

“...This him, Hyde?” the woman asked, turning a little to look at the attacker.

Her companion smirked. “If the wanted posters are correct, Rachel,” he said. Then he looked up at the attacker as well. “Though I do say, he's a lot uglier in person.”

The attacker growled, and then removed his cloak to reveal red eyes. But neither Hyde nor Rachel seemed particularly fazed – in fact, Hyde looked quite excited.

“I know what you're thinking,” Hyde said. “Fancy meeting a meister and a weapon on one of your nightly hunts, huh? Well, that's true, but you haven't met just any meister and weapon pair. For I am the darkest monster around these parts! The caged beast at the heart of all humanity! The spirit of–!”

“Hyde, I don't think now's the time for that,” Rachel chided, struggling to hold the knife off. She pushed the attacker back. “Let's do what we came here for, alright?”

“Affiliates of the DWMA, I see,” the attacker hissed, just as everyone was starting to get out of their seats. “You'll make fine little prizes for me!”

“On the contrary, good sir,” Hyde said, “you're one more prize for us. And the DWMA has nothing to do with this.” He held a hand out. “Rachel!”

Rachel looked towards the people that were still in the pub after many had left. “Everybody out!” Rachel called, before a glow overtook the rest of her, and her form changed, jumping into Hyde's outstretched hand.

The pub was fully evacuated just as the attacker readied his knife, and the glow vanished from the now sickle in Hyde's hand. Not wasting any more time, the attacker jumped at Hyde, and Hyde dodged.

Hyde landed on a table, twirling the sickle around in his hand. The attacked turned towards Hyde, growling inhumanly. He leaped again, but this time Hyde jumped up, and kicked the attacker on the head. The attacker landed gracelessly, breaking the table.

“You're about to get it now,” Hyde said, landing on the floor and turning on the balls of his feet. “No one messes with the spirit of London at–!”

He was cut off by the attacker pouncing at him again, pinning him to the ground. The knife was pointed at Hyde's head, and the attacker moved to stab him, but Hyde blocked with the sickle just in time.

“Please stop announcing your status every other damn minute, you could get hurt!” Rachel said, just as Hyde pushed the attacker back. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“Who the hell needs a plan?” Hyde asked, getting back up. “I just need to kick his ass any way I can!”

“Hyde!” Rachel shouted, as he sprang forward and beat the attacker back with a fist. The attacker then moved to stab once more, but even with his back now turned to the attacker, Hyde was ready. He punched the attacker's face with his free hand, and knocked the knife away with the sickle. Then he turned the sickle over in his hand, and spun around, cleaving through the attacker's body before he could defend himself.

The attacker froze in the air as he was cut in half, and then a glow came from him, before the body vanished – leaving a glowing red orb behind.

The attacker's soul.

Hyde looked up at it, his smile wide.

“All yours, love.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that bartender was quite understanding,” Hyde said as they walked down the street. “Of course, once we got past the broken table and the scared patrons.”

“This always happens whenever we fight in pubs, Hyde,” Rachel said. “It does seem to be a pattern for us – I'm surprised the DWMA hasn't already caught us in one.”

“They could never catch us, Rachel,” Hyde boasted, pointing at himself. “Night spirits know lots of places to hide.”

“Right, right,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don't quite know why you lump yourself in with the monsters you fight.”

“I have to show them who's boss, of course!” Hyde said. “No one can steal my place on this stage!”

Rachel watched him bemusedly, before turning back to the road before them. “Well, I ought to be back at the Society before anyone wants a bite to eat after supper, or else I'm in trouble,” she said. “Your home isn't that far away from here, correct?”

“If I use the rooftops,” Hyde replied. “Is that your way of saying you'll be taking your leave?”

“You got me,” Rachel said.

They approached a fork in the road, and Rachel moved towards the path to the right. “I'll be leaving you to your own fun now,” she told Hyde, waving goodbye. “Don't stay out too late.”

“That's what I should be telling you,” Hyde said, putting his hands on his hips. “Night, darling.”

Rachel sighed. “Night, Eddykins,” she said, before turning and walking down the path to the right.

Hyde didn't even watch her leave – in fact, she had just begun to walk away when he went over to a nearby alleyway and then climbed up the wall of a building.

He didn't stop until he was up on the roof of the building, and he looked out over the expanse of London. Hyde inhaled, and then exhaled.

_How long do you think you can keep this up?_

Hyde blinked, and then groaned out of annoyance.

“So dramatic, Jekyll,” Hyde commented. He looked at his shadow on the chimney next to him. “Still, you can't beat me as the voice of anxiety.”

Before his eyes, the shadow morphed from his silhouette into a taller man, with a neater haircut and a longer face.

_And yet you pride yourself on doing the same to me,_ the shadow told him. _But don't dodge the question. You've been dodging it for weeks now._

“Tch.” Hyde waved a hand. “I have our nightly missions under control. I'll make sure neither Rachel nor I get caught, by either the police or the DWMA. You're not the only one who doesn't want to get caught, my dear doctor.”

He leaped onto the next rooftop, and the next after that, before looking down at his shadow again on the roof tiles. “But don't forget, who was the one who wanted us to go on these missions in the first place?”

_I wanted you to train Rachel,_ the shadow known as Jekyll said.

“And aren't I doing a marvelous job of it?” Hyde returned, looking down at the road below. From the roof, he could see Rachel navigating the streets. He then continued, “It was your idea for us to hunt kishin eggs, anyway.”

_Just because you thought of it, and because we're the same person, doesn't mean that I thought of it as well!_ Jekyll retorted. _And you might excuse your missions as training Rachel and proving yourself 'the biggest and the worst', whatever that means. But doing those is one thing, and turning Rachel into a Death Scythe without the support or permission of the Academy is another!_

Hyde had been jumping across rooftops as Jekyll was speaking, and now paused above a certain building of flats. He stood up straight, and smirked.

“Once upon a time, Jekyll, you wanted to be a Death Scythe,” he told Jekyll.

_That was when I was a child, Hyde,_ Jekyll's voice sounded in Hyde's head. _And how in the world are you going to turn Rachel into a Death Scythe? If my memory serves, you have to kill a witch to do so._

Hyde sighed out of his nose, irritated. “I'll make sure the witch is truly evil, don't you worry,” Hyde said. “At least I won't be picking off any of the Lodgers from your precious Society.”

_Is that supposed to reassure me?_ Jekyll asked. _Never mind. Just don't get into trouble._

“As long as you allow me out, I'll be causing all sorts of trouble,” Hyde replied. “But admit it, you like it.”

Jekyll was silent this time. Hyde cackled, and then climbed down the wall of the flats.

“Without a reply for me, eh, Doctor?” Hyde asked. “You sure know how to keep an argument going.”

_I worry, Hyde, that's all there is to it,_ Jekyll finally answered.

“Thanks, dear,” Hyde said as he went to the door of the building. He opened the door, and went inside.

 

* * *

 

The next day was full of its own difficulties.

But Rachel tried not to worry about that too much as she carried two trays of tea to the common room of the Society for Witches and Sorcerers, working her way through the atrium full of strange and magical items. She took care not to step on the circle of runes in the center of the atrium, and after a while she finally came into the common room.

“I have the tea, everyone,” she chirped, and most of the people inside looked up at her.

The black cat inside was the first to come up to her. “Oh, thanks, Rachel!” the cat said, before in a poof turning into a woman, albeit with cat ears and a tail. Nevertheless, Rachel wasn't surprised – in fact, she was relieved as the woman took the tray from her right hand. The woman then asked, “This wasn't too much trouble, was it?”

“Not at all, Miss Lavender,” Rachel replied. “It's my job to provide you all with all kinds of food, anyway.”

“But let Doddle handle the sweets!” one of the men in the room exclaimed, clapping another calmer-looking man on the shoulder.

“Of course, Dr. Helsby,” Rachel tried to smile. She then turned towards one of the other people in the common room – the only one who hadn't looked up at her when she had entered. She walked towards his solitary table, before placing the other tray on his table.

“I have your tea too,” she said. “Just the way you like it.”

Her smile was then frozen as the man she was talking to didn't even acknowledge her presence, instead choosing to swirl a glowing mixture around in an odd-looking bottle. He and Rachel both watched as the mixture changed from blue to purple, before he put the bottle down, and took out a notebook and a pen.

“Mr. Griffin?” Rachel asked.

“I heard you the first time, Miss Pidgley,” the man known as Griffin said. “I don't have to greet you every time you bring me tea.”

“Oh, well, I was just...trying to be polite,” she said, her smile faltering.

Griffin paused in the middle of taking notes. “What? Do you want a thank you?”

“Uh, I...” Rachel began, but then the noise in the room hushed a bit. Rachel then looked up at the doorway of the common room to see another man standing there.

“What brings you here, Dr. Jekyll?” Lavender asked, setting down the tray of tea on another table.

“Nothing in particular,” Jekyll said, smiling politely. “I just have to speak with Miss Pidgley here.”

Rachel looked up, and straightened up from her place at Griffin's table. “Oh, sure,” she said. She wiped her hands on her apron, and moved towards the doorway.

“Hey,” Griffin called, and Rachel halted. She turned her head to look at him.

“...Thank you,” he said, before looking back to his notebook.

Rachel smiled a little, and then turned back to Jekyll, walking out of the common room.

“What did you want me for?” she asked, hearing the nervousness in her own voice.

Jekyll began to walk the halls of the Society, and Rachel followed after him. “I heard that a meister and weapon pair fought a kishin egg in a pub last night,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

“According to the bartender, the meister was male, blonde, and spindly; as for the weapon, she was petite and had dark hair, if I remember?”

Now Rachel was putting her hands behind her back, something of a smile creeping onto her face. “That sounds interesting.”

“The meister said to the bartender that all repairs would be seen to by the Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” Jekyll finished.

Rachel paused. Jekyll turned to her, but she was trying to look away.

“...It's not the first time Hyde's done this,” Rachel said, trying to smile geniunely. “I mean, we've fought kishin eggs before, and–”

“I know it's not the first time,” Jekyll responded. “In fact, I've known since I got the first message from the first pub asking for repairs from our Society.”

“Shit,” Rachel cursed. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth – she probably shouldn't have cursed. Jekyll turned fully towards her, and took a few steps towards her.

“I-I'm sorry, I just–” Rachel said, “–this was just something that I felt I wanted to do, and Hyde always said he had it under control! And I know next to nothing about fighting, so I was so stupid to believe him–”

“Rachel,” Jekyll said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don't worry. I can see you're having a lot of fun with Hyde.”

“Not exactly...” Rachel said, and then waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, no, I mean – I love time with Hyde, but it's not just that...what I'm trying to say is that, this training matters a lot to me...”

Jekyll put his own hands up. “I know it matters a lot to you; I'm not going to stop you two.” He then put them down. “Still, I hope that you both would be more careful in your _training_ next time. Bring the message to Hyde as well, won't you?”

“O-of course!” Rachel said. Then she took a lock of hair in between her fingers and started tugging. “Hyde does have a little trouble getting things through that thick head of his, so of course it would take the two of us to remind him to be more careful, if not more, uh...” She looked up at Jekyll. “The repairs aren't costing you too much, are they?”

“It's not time for figures,” Jekyll said. “I just worry about you and Hyde, that's all. And I know you'll be able to talk some sense into him. You're his partner, after all.”

Rachel blinked, and then laughed. “Sure!” she said. “You can count on me, Henry!”

Jekyll beamed at her. “Good!” he said. “For now, though, I'm going to have a session with Dr. Lanyon. I expect you'll be going back to work.”

“Session? What kind of session?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, we don't do it very often. We just train.” He then turned around. “Though not as intensely as you and Hyde do.”

He waved goodbye to her, and walked away. Rachel watched Jekyll leave, before turning away as well, on the way to the kitchen.

 


	2. The Sword and the Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lanyon and Jekyll have a sparring match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently I'm going through a rough patch with my work and am barely functioning, so if anything seems less than right, please bear with me and tell me so. Maybe when I feel better I can fix it.
> 
> The first scene is basically like the old fanfiction I wrote, in which Lanyon and Jekyll train in combat. Except a few things are changed up and I expanded the chapter.

Sunlight shone through the window of a large room.

It reflected off a sword, bright and elegant in the daylight. The hand holding it moved the sword up to the wielder's face, and the metal showed his face clearly.

“I'm glad you were able to come today, Lanyon,” the sword told its wielder. “I know this might be inconveniencing you.”

“Jekyll, I don't think keeping tabs on our combat skills is an inconvenience,” Lanyon replied. “And besides, I find it a good thing that you would come to me instead of doing it alone.”

“Well, that would be a problem if Jekyll decided to do it alone, wouldn't you think?” the man standing in front of the two of them cut in. Lanyon looked up at him as he continued, “Every weapon needs a meister.”

Jekyll laughed. “Don't worry about it, Mr. Bird!” he said. “I would never do anything without him.”

“Because I'm the light of his life,” Lanyon added, raising the sword. “But never mind that. Is the other one coming in here or not?”

Just as he had asked this, the door opened, revealing a young man, who stretched as he walked into the room. “Sorry m'late,” he said, walking up to Bird. Eyeing Lanyon and the sword in his hand, the corner of his mouth turned upwards. “You sure are eager today, Doctors,” he said.

“I've been waiting for you for quite a while – Mr. Archer, am I correct?” Lanyon said. Then he pointed the sword at Bird and Archer. “No matter. Prepare yourselves.”

Archer turned away from Lanyon. “Ready for a fight – that's good,” he said, before starting to glow. His form then jumped up and into Bird's hand, changing shape as he did so, until the glow vanished – and what remained was a clockwork gun.

“Now we're ready,” Bird said, aiming the gun at Lanyon.

He fired, and then Lanyon blocked the shot with the sword. Bird fired some more, and Lanyon ran forward, blocking and dodging the other bullets until he was right in front of Bird.

He thrust the sword forward, but Bird blocked that with the gun, and then pushed Lanyon back. Bird aimed once more, and fired at Lanyon's feet. Lanyon dodged narrowly, and gripped his sword tighter before coming forward again and swinging the sword back.

“Careful, Robert!” Jekyll warned, as Lanyon moved to strike from below.

For a moment, Lanyon thought that he had cut through Bird's flesh, but then he looked down and saw that he had instead cut halfway through a thick vine that had appeared in front of Bird's leg. Before he could do anything, the vine moved of its own accord and swung back, causing Lanyon to stumble back.

“I thought you said earlier that you weren't going to use any magic!” Lanyon yelled.

“Well you wanted a real fight, didn't you?” Bird asked. “Sorcerers don't fight fair.”

With a snap of Bird's finger, the vine rushed at Lanyon, but Lanyon steadied his footing and thrust through the vine, spearing it. He pulled the sword back, and the vine shrunk back.

“Well, you're going to have to learn to fight fair if you want to stay in this Society,” Lanyon said, swinging the sword back once more, and slicing through the vine.

Bird only chuckled, yet pulled the vine back. “You want me to hold back? That discussion will not save you in a real fight.”

Without responding, Lanyon sprang forward once more, only to have Bird block the incoming blow with the gun. Lanyon pulled back, and then thrust the sword forward once more, but Bird dodged.

Lanyon caught the glint in Bird's eyes – or maybe it was just his glasses – before he felt the muzzle of the gun pointed at his back.

“Be careful about your openings, Doctor,” Bird only said, before squeezing the trigger.

The shot blew Lanyon back, and he lost his grip on Jekyll, falling down to the floor. Bird stepped towards Lanyon as the man tried to catch his breath, and pointed the gun at Lanyon again.

“Sorry to say, Doctor, but it looks like the match is over,” he said.

Lanyon propped himself up on his hands and knees, just as the sword glowed, and changed back into Jekyll's human form. Jekyll then came swiftly to Lanyon's side.

“...You call that the 'lowest setting', Mr. Archer?” Lanyon asked incredulously. “That hurt!”

“It would have hurt a lot worse if I had set myself any higher,” the gun said. It then glowed, and changed form as well, jumping out of Bird's hand. Now back in his human form, Archer looked at Lanyon. “I don't even use real bullets, and Bird was holding his soul wavelength back as well.”

Lanyon looked away. “Scares me, then, to think what it would feel like if he weren't.”

With the help of Jekyll, Lanyon finally got to his feet. He rubbed his back, inhaling, and then exhaling.

“Don't worry about it too much,” Bird told Lanyon. “You're quite the fighter, Doctor.”

Lanyon stared at him, before curtly nodding, and then looking at Jekyll. “I think I feel well enough to stand on my own, thank you,” he said, and Jekyll hesitated, before letting go of him.

Lanyon looked at Jekyll this time, smiling wider. “Did I worry you, Henry?”

“Robert – it's my duty to be concerned about you; I'm your weapon, and you're my meister,” Jekyll said.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Lanyon said, before putting his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, Henry, we have a lunch date, and we'd better not be late.” Lanyon walked over to his coat, hanging on a coat rack. “Thank you for the thrilling fight, gentlemen.”

“Over so soon?” Archer asked. Then he shrugged. “I understand, though; you both have things to do, and places to be...”

Lanyon looked at him, before putting on his coat. That didn't matter to him at all. “You have to be getting ready as well, Henry,” he reminded Jekyll, who snapped out of his thoughts.

“Of course, Robert,” Jekyll said, before walking out the door.

Lanyon raised an eyebrow. He wondered what was always on Jekyll's mind.

 

* * *

 

_Ah, the fun's ending so soon._

“It's no one's fault if Lanyon and I only have enough time for one sparring match,” Jekyll said to the voice in his head. “We have to go before we're late.”

_Oh, but surely one more fight won't hurt?_

“You get enough fighting during your nightly adventures, Hyde,” Jekyll replied. He shut his mouth as he passed by two other residents of the Society, and then listened to Hyde speak as he continued on to his office.

_I wouldn't always be wanting to have these nightly adventures if it weren't for your dear Robert mucking up your fun,_ Hyde told him. _You two barely have time for anything besides dinner parties and being serious all the time._

“That's because Robert and I have to promote the Society in the best ways we can,” Jekyll said as he finally reached the doors of his office. “We don't have time for the brawls that you call 'fun'.”

_And yet you make time to practice with the Lodgers, which must mean something to you,_ Hyde responded.

Jekyll opened the door to his office, and got himself inside as Hyde continued, _Admit it, it was more fun when you were in the Academy and you knew you could have fights anytime you wanted._

“Yet you resent the Academy and plan to defy it by making Rachel into a Death Scythe outside of its bounds.” Jekyll looked at the mirror in his office. “Since you're supposed to be my darkest desires, I suppose that would mean something?”

His reflection sneered at him, with cold green eyes instead of his own red ones. _Ooh, so you are cleverer than you look,_ his reflection said in Hyde's voice. _Still, my point is, you want to fight, and Lanyon is putting a stop to that all the time._ He tutted. _What do you see in him?_

“I see a perfectly reasonable friend who doesn't like to fight when it's not necessary,” Jekyll reasoned. “Besides, it isn't like he controls every little aspect of my life.”

_Hm,_ Hyde said, _what other friend of yours has a hold on your schedule and fills it with dainty tea parties and boring little get-togethers? What other friend of yours nitpicks at whatever activities you consider doing and asks if it's right for you?_

Jekyll turned away from the mirror, but Hyde morphed into his own form, and floated out of the glass pane. _What other friend has been doing this since he tried to help you be happy years ago?_

“You've made your point, Hyde,” Jekyll snapped, before sighing and crossing his arms. “But Robert really is worried for me. I know he's just trying to be a good friend.”

_But not even a good friend can learn about the dark secrets that you keep,_ Hyde said, floating around Jekyll, flowing in some ethereal liquid. _And you secretly resent that oaf for trying to control your life. I know I do!_

“I don't resent Robert; we're partners,” Jekyll said. “And if he puts me under any pressure, it's just because he wants to help me. Understand?”

_If that's how you choose to interpret it,_ Hyde sighed. He floated into another pane of glass, this time into one of Jekyll's glass cabinets. _But you've bored me, and now I want a night out._

“And you'll get a night out, if that will keep you quiet,” Jekyll said. “But we can discuss that later.” He glanced down at his pocket watch, and groaned. “Because now, we're running late.”

 

* * *

 

Well, that lunch wasn't so bad.

To be honest, Lanyon thought there was something off about that Helton family that he and Jekyll had just eaten with, but he had chosen not to voice it. After all, he and Jekyll came a few minutes late, and every family had their quirks.

He wished his family had a less sad quirk, though.

Lanyon shook his head. Best not to dwell on that now.

The carriage he was in came to a stop, and once it fully halted, the door opened for Lanyon to step out. He took a few steps out the carriage, and then walked into his house.

“I'm home,” he called, but only the household staff greeted him. Lanyon looked around, his eyebrows raised. Maybe his wife was out with her friend from Paris. They did seem to have a lot of get-togethers.

“Sir,” the butler said, walking over to Lanyon. He held up a telegram. “For you. It came earlier this morning.”

“Thank you,” Lanyon said. That meant it came when he was out at the Society. He went to the sitting room, and opened the telegram. Maybe if he had been here earlier, he wouldn't have been so late for the lunch.

But the sparring matches were Jekyll's idea, and Lanyon knew he couldn't refuse those after much deliberation. Though he didn't know why Jekyll wanted to have such matches – he was of the mind that he and Jekyll weren't avid battlers.

He seated himself into an armchair. His eyes fell upon the telegram, and he read:

_Dinner party tomorrow night. Need to make important announcement about Battle Club. Don't be late._

_G. LANYON_

Lanyon frowned. Obviously it was from his father. He leaned forward, pressing his lips together.

He and his father weren't on the best of terms, that much he knew. Plus, even if his father was the head of this prestigious Battle Club, he didn't consider himself or Jekyll regular members. They weren't avid battlers – and they had been disgraced for a long time.

But think of influential people who could be there! Think of all those rich men and women in one house! And Jekyll's Society did need support...

Lanyon mulled over it for a few more seconds, before sighing out of his nose.

He was going to have to make a telegram.

 


	3. The Gun and the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer and Griffin also get into a fight - just not a fight that either of them wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just uploading this now so I won't have to do so in the middle of school. I think I've been excited for this introduction the most - it does feature my faves, after all.
> 
> Enjoy the third introduction of the Society for Witches and Sorcerers! And please leave a comment when you can!

A man trotted down the streets of London at night, crossing puddles and dodging the various stray animals that wandered the streets. In fact, he was wandering around as well, looking for some brand new place that he hadn't been to before.

He looked around, and all was quiet.

Until he heard a crash.

He looked up and saw a girl wielding a giant axe, landing on the ground and displacing a few bits of the pavement. She swung the axe back, and then paused as she saw the man standing on the road.

“Get out of here, sir!” she said, before a blast landed near her feet. She then looked back up to see another man standing atop the roof of the building in front of her. The man on the road looked up at him as well, and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, no,” he said quietly.

The girl leaped up in the air, swinging the axe forward – but the man she was battling dodged it, and slid down the rooftop, scraping some roof tiles out of their place. The girl huffed, and then steadied her axe.

Now that the man she was battling was closer, it was safe to say that the man on the pavement recognized him quite well in the moonlight.

“Griffin?” he asked. “What the hell?!”

The man known as Griffin looked down at him, surprise all over his face. This was enough distraction to get the girl to jump forward, and kick Griffin off the roof. He landed roughly on the road below, and the girl jumped down to follow him. The man then watched as she swung the axe high over her shoulder, ready to inflict the final blow–

–but when she threw the axe down, Griffin narrowly dodged, and then vanished from sight.

“Damn!” another voice, a male one, spoke. The man watching knew it was coming from the axe. “Who knows where the hell he could be now!”

The man barely had time to contemplate it himself, before he was grabbed – rather roughly – by an invisible force, and led down a nearby alleyway. Once the force had brought him behind a pile of crates, color faded back into the arms that were holding him, and Griffin appeared before him.

“Archer!” Griffin whispered. “Of all the bloody – what are you doing here?”

“I was just passing through,” Archer said, putting up his hands. “Besides, I thought you told Jekyll that you wouldn't pick fights with any more meisters!”

Griffin frowned. “Well, what else am I supposed to do when they attack me first?”

A whoosh sounded over them, and Griffin covered Archer's mouth. “Look, I just need to scare her away, and then she can go back to her little Academy safe and sound. Doesn't that sound like a plan to you?”

Without waiting for a reply, Griffin turned invisible once more, and Archer felt the hand move away from his mouth, before footsteps thumped on the ground, growing further and further away. Archer sighed out of his nose, and then went out of the alley to see a blast fired from an invisible source at the girl, who now was on the roof again. It hit her, and knocked her off balance, sending her nearly sliding off the roof, but she caught herself with the axe. More footsteps rang out across the streets, sloshing through puddles.

Archer watched as the girl straightened up and scanned the area where the footsteps were coming from. Just as the footsteps paused, the girl held up her axe, and threw it to her right.

The axe landed into a wall, and color faded back into Griffin as he realized it had pinned him to the wall. Griffin grabbed the axe and tried to pull it out, but was unable to move it, no matter how he struggled. The girl jumped down from the roof, and walked towards him, bringing out a dagger from her belt.

“In the name of Lord Death, this evil must be purged,” she said, the metal of the dagger shining brightly. Griffin's eyes widened, and he struggled even harder to get out of his situation, but all he had to show was blood beginning to seep through his sleeve. The sleeve finally began to rip, but the girl was too close now – and then a flash knocked the dagger out of her hand, and the flash landed in Griffin's own hand, solidifying and changing into a clockwork gun.

Griffin got the message, and aimed the gun at the girl, before shooting. She was knocked back, and she stumbled two feet away just as Griffin finally ripped his sleeve out from under the axe. He paused to catch his breath, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a hand.

“Good grief,” he said. “It took you long enough.”

“Ah, and who kept me shushed in the alley?” Archer retorted. “You know your offensive magic isn't exactly the best.”

“Where did the gun come from?” the axe asked, before beginning to glow.

“It must have been the man we saw earlier,” the girl said, picking up her dagger. The axe glowed and jumped out of the wall, before transforming into a human, and standing beside his meister. He turned his hand into an axe blade, saying, “But gun or no gun, I don't care. We have to stop this evil sorcerer before it's too late!”

“Ugh, shut it, you little do-gooders,” Griffin said, holding up the clockwork gun. “I'm not here to hurt anyone. Except you, if you don't leave me alone.”

The weapon's response was to run forward screaming, and swing his blade down on Griffin. Griffin dodged, jumping back a few feet. The meister sprang towards him from behind, and brought her dagger down, but Griffin turned invisible again and the dagger only sliced through thin air.

The meister and weapon did see the clockwork gun floating in mid-air, though, and Griffin became visible again just as they did. He looked up at Archer. “You're on the lowest setting, right?” he asked.

“Of course; we can't hurt them,” Archer said. “Unless you wanted me to be on a higher setting.”

“Don't take me for some bloodthirsty fighter,” Griffin returned, annoyed.

The meister and weapon in front of them readied themselves. “You're a demon weapon, aren't you?” she asked Archer. “Aren't you supposed to be on our side?”

“Actually, this is all a big misunderstanding,” Archer replied. “If the sorcerer here meant any real harm, I would know. It's a complicated situation I'm in, basically.”

Griffin adjusted his footing. “Until he gets it sorted out, though, stay out of our way.”

“Like we'd let an armed sorcerer like you roam the streets!” the weapon shouted, and with that he and his meister charged.

“You asked for it,” Griffin said, firing at them. The shots hit both the meister and weapon, sending them flying back. They groaned in pain, and that was when Griffin took a vial out from his pocket.

“You sure don't know when to quit,” he commented, popping the cork off the opening of the vial. “Let me teach you a lesson there.”

“Wait, what are you going to do with that?” Archer asked, a little anxiously.

Griffin threw the contents of the vial down at the pair, and a large cloud of orange smoke engulfed them. When the smoke cleared after a few seconds, the meister and weapon pair was gone.

“...What the bloody hell did you do?” Archer questioned.

“That potion only sent the two of them somewhere far away from here, if Ito brewed it correctly,” Griffin replied. “And since you were on the lowest setting, they probably aren't internally bleeding, so it's fine.”

Archer sighed in relief. Then there was a pause.

“Wait, you stole another one of Ito's potions?”

“Get off my case.”

 

* * *

 

“There were people last night who saw a white-haired sorcerer fighting a meister and weapon pair from the DWMA,” Jekyll said, locking his fingers together on the desk he was sitting at in his office.

From across him, Griffin crossed his arms. “White-haired probably means the sorcerer was old. You, of all people should know how many witches and sorcerers of all shapes and sizes visit London every year.”

Jekyll was unimpressed. “They saw that he was your build and your height.”

“Could be a doppelganger.”

“He could turn invisible and was armed with a rogue demon weapon – a clockwork gun, to be precise.” Jekyll sighed, long and hard, through his nose. “I know Mr. Archer would never side against a meister and weapon from the DWMA unless it was absolutely necessary; you, on the other hand...”

“Do not get along well with them, I get it,” Griffin complained. He leaned on the table. “For your information, Jekyll, they attacked me first. If you could convince the DWMA to leave us alone, then sure, I'd leave them alone. But until then, I have to protect myself. All the Lodgers here do, as well.”

“What were you doing outside in the dead of night, anyway?” Jekyll asked. “And why didn't you have your Soul Protect up?”

Griffin looked away. “I was doing something that required me to use my magic. And as for what that was, that's none of your business.”

“Were you out trying to steal again?” Jekyll raised an eyebrow.

Griffin didn't like the resulting silence that he couldn't break. His mouth was pressed in a thin line.

Before he could say anything, Griffin could sense that Jekyll knew he was indeed right. Jekyll rubbed his temples. “Look, Mr. Griffin, I'll let you stay here as long as you need the shelter and are willing to contribute to our cause. But for goodness's sakes, you have to fix your crooked ways. Of all the Lodgers here, you are certainly one of the more...troublesome. That's nothing you can't change, though, isn't it?”

“Yes, yes, good luck trying to get the Sway of Magic out of me, and all that.” Griffin rolled his eyes.

Jekyll looked at him tiredly. “Please, Mr. Griffin, don't test me. Sway of Magic or not, you are acting like a child. Any more of this and you'll see how little of my patience is left.” A small pause. “Aren't you grateful Mr. Archer pulled you off the streets in the first place?”

At the mention of Archer's name, Griffin looked down. Jekyll continued, “You ought to honor the trust Mr. Archer placed in you. That's what friends do, right?”

Griffin finally looked back up at Jekyll. “Alright,” he conceded. “I'll behave myself.” He stood up from his seat. “But remember, this isn't for your sake. This is only for Archer, do you understand?”

Jekyll smiled pleasantly. “Thank you, Mr. Griffin. You don't know how much that means to me.”

Griffin nodded. Then he made to leave the room, when Jekyll called, “Oh, and Mr. Griffin?”

He sighed loudly, and turned back around. “What?” he asked.

“I know you placed your Sticky Enchantment on my chair when I sat down,” Jekyll said, still not breaking his smile. “Would you mind removing it?”

“Fine,” Griffin grumbled. He snapped a finger, and in a second Jekyll was able to stand up. “What gave it away?” the former asked.

“You do it all the time when I call you into my office,” Jekyll said, “which is often. I advise you save your tricks for someone who has the patience for them.”

Seeing how Jekyll had kept his smile throughout his explanation as well, Griffin was slightly unnerved. He looked at the door, and then grabbed the doorknob, before showing himself out.

 

* * *

 

Archer looked up from his seat at the top of the stairs when Griffin came out of Jekyll's office. He stood up, and Griffin looked at him.

“Before you ask, you're not in trouble,” Griffin said.

Archer turned fully towards him. “Well, what about you?” he asked.

Griffin shrugged. “I could have done better.” Then he put his hands in his pockets. “And no, it won't help if you try to explain away what I did. Jekyll knows you cover up for me a lot.” He blinked, and looked away. “What do you see in me, anyway?”

Archer took a step closer. “I don't know, I just...want to help you, I suppose. And we both came here off the streets; that has to mean something. Not to mention you agreed to help the Society's cause, so there must be some good in you.”

Griffin swallowed, his eyes darting towards Archer, and then away again. Archer's own eyes widened when he saw the other man's pale cheeks begin to color.

“Hey, are you alright?” Archer asked, coming closer, but Griffin dodged.

“Everything's fine,” Griffin said, walking around Archer and down the stairs, holding a hand to his face so it was hidden from Archer's view. “It's tea time, isn't it? Let's go down to the common room.”

Archer stared after him, before frowning, yet following the other man anyway.

There was something up with Griffin, Archer knew. Every time he showed a tiny bit of concern, the other man would curl into himself and avoid him. And lately, Griffin seemed to ask a lot what he meant to Archer, especially now that he was getting into lots of trouble for stealing or picking fights or losing his temper. Yet he didn't accept any explanation that Archer tried to offer.

Archer just wanted to help, that's all it was. He knew what it was like to have no one care for him, to have to take care of himself.

Griffin and Archer went down to the common room, where a few other residents of the Society for Witches and Sorcerers – the Lodgers – were gathered. The moment the two of them entered, these Lodgers looked up at them, and Archer felt a little uncomfortable.

The fish sorcerer, Dr. Ranjit Helsby, was the first to grin. “Well, if it isn't the two troublemakers!” he said.

“Don't call them that, Helsby,” the beetle witch, Miss Sophia Flowers, said. “Surely they didn't mean any harm to those students.”

“They made the paper anyway,” Helsby said, holding up what was likely the day's issue of a newspaper, turned to a certain page. Even from his spot by the doorway, Archer could see what the article on that page was about, and he put a palm to his face.

“Listen, could you just leave that alone?” he asked. “What happened last night was none of your business.”

“No, we get it; some of us here have been targets of a meister and weapon attack at least once,” the chimera sorcerer, Mr. Sinnett, said. “I heard Mosley barely made it out alive once when he was in a fight. It's a good thing you had Archer around to help you, Griffin.”

From an armchair, the owl witch-slash-alchemist, Miss Virginia Ito, made a noise of disapproval. “As well as one of my potions, as I suspected,” she said. “This isn't the first time one of my potions has gone missing when you went out of my room, Mr. Griffin.”

Griffin growled, but Archer put a hand up to stop him. “He'll replace it, he'll replace it,” he assured her. “He'll figure out your formula eventually, right?”

“Sure, when Helsby learns to silence his tongue,” Virginia said.

“Oi, don't say things like that.” Helsby frowned.

Flowers looked at Archer. “This incident isn't going to do anything to your dream of trying to go to the Death Weapon Meister Academy, is it?”

A hush fell upon the room. Another sorcerer, Mr. Pennebrygg, tapped Flowers's shoulder. “Flowers, that's a subject we'd rather not touch,” he stage-whispered.

Archer put his hands up. “No, it's fine. I'll be fine.”

He tried to smile, even as he caught Helsby whispering to Virginia, “Personally, though, I hope he never leaves. He's too valuable around here.”

“Don't be so insensitive; Archer's not a tool,” Virginia whispered back, quieter than Helsby, but Archer's ears still caught it anyway. “He's going to want to leave us anyway. He's a weapon, and we're what _his kind_ is sworn to fight.”

At this point, Archer's smile faltered, and he looked down. Suddenly he wasn't that eager to have tea.

 


	4. The Werewolf and the Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jekyll meets a werewolf on the streets of London, and offers him a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wouldn't be evident soon, this chapter just feels like Chapters 1 & 2 of The Glass Scientists mashed together into one. Hence the need to make it long. Please bear with me.
> 
> Finally, the werewolf Jasper Kaylock enters the picture!
> 
> ...Yeah, I think I wrote Jekyll and Hyde a little ooc in the beginning. Just let me know, I'm hungry for feedback!

Jekyll inhaled, and then exhaled. He smiled peacefully as he walked down the street.

“You know, Hyde, I think you might be right when you say the night is a good time,” he said. “I do enjoy having this time to myself.”

_When I said that, I meant that drinking and sleeping around is a good time._ From the tone of disapproval, Jekyll could mentally see Hyde shaking his head. _Night time strolls, on the other hand, are boring._

“Hyde, you had your night out last night, and I actually have free time for once,” Jekyll said. “Besides, I wanted to see what you find so enchanting about the night.”

_Let's just say we both find it “enchanting” for different reasons,_ Hyde deadpanned. Then his tone perked up as he said, _Now can you drink the potion?_

“Hyde, let me have this.”

Hyde humphed, but Jekyll only cracked a smile. He was the one with the potion; he had a say over when Hyde would come out. Well, sure, Hyde did try to convince him to let him out for the famed Blackfog Bazaar, which was in London, last night, but Hyde had spent so much time around the seedy end of London that he didn't get to go to the Bazaar. And Jekyll, for once, wanted a meal to himself. Hyde could wait, couldn't he?

_I really can't._

“Next time, Hyde; don't you want to eat?”

_...Seeing as you starve yourself, that's fair._

“What does that mean?”

Hyde didn't have time to make a snide remark, though, because at that moment, a boom shook the street. Jekyll regained his balance just as a few people went towards a certain street, and he adjusted his hat.

_Is that a kishin egg?_ Hyde asked.

Jekyll quickly walked in the direction everyone was going. “If it were, people would be running away instead of towards it,” he noted. “And if it is, how are we going to fight it?”

_Leave it to me, dear,_ Hyde said as they turned a corner. _If it's any danger, I'll take it out in no time!_

“You don't have Rachel; what are you going to use as a weapon?” Jekyll asked.

In his mind's eye, Hyde seemed to shrug. _I'll think of something._

Jekyll turned another corner, and found himself on a crowded street, drowning out much of what Hyde was boasting about. He heard something – no, some _one_ – growling where everyone was gathered around.

“Excuse me,” he said, as he made his way through the crowd. “Excuse me.”

Several people recognized him and made room for him, and so he went to the front of the crowd without much trouble. Once he was there, he saw what the fuss was all about.

There was a group of men in the center – police officers, with the exception of one person who wore a replica of Lord Death's mask on his belt; this one was tied around the neck of a large wolf. No, not any normal wolf; even though it was on all fours, it looked more human than animal, and instead of front paws, it had hands. Now it spoke in a sad, growling voice, “Please let me go!”

“Friends, we've caught this werewolf at last,” the man with Death's mask called, and the people in the crowd cheered. One of the policemen – the one Jekyll identified as the sergeant – clapped this man on the back. “Thanks for your help, sir,” the sergeant said. “Now we can ship him off to the DWMA.”

“Yes, lucky we got that report from the London School of Magic about a young werewolf, huh?” the man from the DWMA said.

Jekyll's eye then fell upon the werewolf. “Sirs, please,” the werewolf was saying, “I don't mean any trouble! You can take me to the wilderness or something, I know I don't belong in the city! I don't want to hurt anyone, honest!”

At the werewolf's words, Jekyll felt something ache in his chest. His hands curled into fists.

_Jekyll, are you thinking what I'm thinking?_

“I have to do something,” Jekyll said. “I can't let them take him away.”

_Why is it that you have this hero complex about the strange and misunderstood?_ Then Hyde snickered. _No matter. Saving witches, and now apparently werewolves, is your area of expertise._

Jekyll straightened up, and then cleared his throat, stepping forward.

“Pardon me, Sergeant Brokenshire,” Jekyll said above the crowd. Most of the crowd hushed, and the group of men in front of him looked to him.

Jekyll stepped further forward, looking Brokenshire in the eye. “I did not expect to see you on this fine evening,” he continued, putting on a smile.

“Well, there's always things to be done, crime to stop,” Brokenshire said. He put his hands on his hips, smiling politely. “It was you who I didn't expect to see, Doctor. What brings you here?”

“We're in the middle of an arrest, so I assume you want something from us,” one of the policemen behind Brokenshire joked.

Instead of panicking or lying, Jekyll only chuckled. “I suppose I do tend to ask the esteemed police for things a lot, don't I, Constable Jenkins? But it does come with dealing with folks who use magic.”

“Well, I for one don't understand what you see in those witches and sorcerers,” another policeman said. “Aren't they all dangerous, or something?”

“Due to the Sway of Magic, yes, Constable Wipple,” the man from the DWMA said. He then gestured to Jekyll. “Who is this gentleman, by the way?”

Brokenshire turned to the man. “Mr. Carten, this is Dr. Henry Jekyll. He runs...a certain Society in this city.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jekyll said, shaking Carten's hand as he stretched it out to shake.

Carten, on the other hand, squinted. “Are those...sparkles?” he asked.

“Let me get to the point as to why I have come here, good sirs,” Jekyll said.

_Finally,_ Hyde added. Jekyll then went on, “What are you planning to do with this werewolf, Mr. Carten?”

Carten held up the thick rope tied around the werewolf's neck. “Well, Dr. Jekyll, I was just planning on sending him to the DWMA. You know, to make sure he's not up to no good.”

“I see,” Jekyll said, nodding. “But what signs has he shown that he might be up to no good?”

“Well, he wrecked up a few streets while we were chasing him; he sure spooked a lot of innocent citizens,” Brokenshire told him. “Caused a right load of trouble too by switching back and forth between rampaging werewolf and a state of mind that we could communicate with him in.”

“Then let's communicate with him,” Jekyll said. “The good werewolf here–” Jekyll cut himself off, leaning down to the werewolf's level. “Do pardon me, but what is your name?” he asked.

“J-Jasper Kaylock, sir,” the werewolf said with much surprise.

Jekyll straightened up. “I heard Mr. Kaylock here speak moments ago. You must have heard it too, right?”

Looking at the way Jenkins and Wipple tried to look away, Jekyll went on, “Well, if you did not hear it, that can be forgiven. Ears do fool everyone from time to time; you see, I heard him promise that he would not harm anyone – and I believe him.”

“But what if the werewolf was lying?” Carten asked.

Jekyll looked at him. “And what if he isn't? I know a good person like you wouldn't subject an innocent to scrutiny, imprisonment, and unwarranted punishment simply because people only presumed he was up to no good.”

“Well, that's true,” Carten said.

Jekyll then put his hands behind his back. “I have a proposition to make,” he said. “I will take the werewolf Mr. Kaylock at his word, and I will rehabilitate him so that he can be a functioning member of society. He will be under my care, and I will make sure he doesn't cause any trouble to anyone.” Then he said out loud, simultaneously with Hyde who was speaking in his thoughts, “And the repairs to this street will be seen to by the Society for Witches and Sorcerers.”

Carten's eyes widened. “A society for witches and sorcerers?” Then he laughed. “Surely you jest, good sir. No one could have that much sympathy for those people.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Carten,” Jekyll said. “I believe they have the capacity for good. And I believe the same for Mr. Kaylock.”

Brokenshire crossed his arms. “Protecting and guiding witches is one thing, Doctor, and doing the same for a werewolf is another. They're two different beings.”

“Yet unfortunately, there are those who would lump them in the same group of malevolent beings,” Jekyll countered. “Give Mr. Kaylock a chance. I promise you, he will become a good, upright citizen under my watch.”

Carten and Brokenshire shared a look, before Carten looked back at Jekyll. “The Death Scythe in charge of Europe will not like this report,” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Seire?” Jekyll asked. “He can take it up with me. He's discussed a lot of things with me, in fact; I can handle him.”

Brokenshire stared at Jekyll, and then looked at Carten again. “It's your call now, sir,” he said. “You are the representative of the Academy.”

Carten took a few seconds, then sighed, and extended the rope to Jekyll. “In the name of the Death Weapon Meister Academy, I give this werewolf over to the custody of Dr. Henry Jekyll and his...Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” he declared.

Jekyll took the rope, and gave Carten a genial smile. “Thank you. You will not regret it, Mr. Carten.”

“I hope not. They're probably going to send me to your Society to inspect him after a while, so be ready,” he said. And with that, Carten and the police left, and the crowd dispersed.

Jekyll looked down at the werewolf, and then bent down to untie the knot around his neck.

“Let's get that off you, Mr. Kaylock,” he said.

 

* * *

 

The people who had gathered around the building housing Jasper's flat were none too happy to see the werewolf back. But when they saw the respectable gentleman accompanying him, they kept their mouths shut. That didn't stop Jasper from shrinking back at their stares – well, as much as a large werewolf could do so.

He looked at the gentleman beside him (Dr. Jekyll, was it?), and saw that he didn't seem at all concerned by the people staring; instead, he looked quite tranquil. Jasper wished he exuded that amount of peace within him.

The two of them made their way inside after Jekyll exchanged a few words with the landlord – Jasper caught the words “moving him to a place better suited for his needs”, and his curiosity was piqued further. Moreover, even though Jasper was the one leading Jekyll to his flat, he felt quite overpowered by this man, who so far had appeared quite masterful. Jasper was, frankly, a bit scared of him.

So it was with some nervousness that Jasper finally showed him to his wrecked flat. Jekyll peeked into the room, and saw what Jasper saw – cages of strange creatures toppled over, the floorboards scratched up, the sheets and curtains torn, and the glass of the windows riddled with bullet holes. After staring a little, Jekyll stepped inside, and was immediately greeted with a cacophony from the creatures within their cages.

“Whoa, whoa!” Jasper said, coming into the room, holding up his hands to calm them. “It's alright, he's a friend of mine.” He shushed them gently, one by one, until all of them were silent again. He then looked back to Jekyll, who seemed awed by what he had just done. Jasper put a hand to the back of his neck.

“I'm sorry about that; a lot of them get spooked by other people coming in,” he said.

Jekyll shook his head. “No, I fully understand myself. I have a church grim, and he can be quite excitable around people he doesn't know. Of course, he warms up to people soon enough...”

“You have a church grim, sir?” Jasper asked. “Where did you find one?”

“I was traveling once, and I met my dear church grim Zosi on the way,” Jekyll replied. “You should meet him – he's a right charmer!”

“I would – I would love to!” Jasper said, cracking a smile.

The moment did not last very long, though. Something sparked within him, and then a burst of pain erupted forth. Jasper heard himself scream, no, growl; and he got down on all fours again, clawing at the floor. He heard Jekyll take a step back, and he smelled the barest hint of fear.

This was bad...

...he was afraid...

...that was _good_...

Jasper caught a hold of himself, just before he felt he was going to lose himself again. Steam began to emanate from his body as his form grew smaller, and excess hair vanished. He felt claws turn into fingernails, and his tired groans sounded more human. He panted when the transformation was complete, trying not to collapse.

“Mr. Kaylock?” Jekyll bent down to his knees, crouching near Jasper. “Are you alright? Jasper?”

The sound of Jekyll's voice and his name brought Jasper back, and he looked up at Jekyll just as the first signs of morning shone through the broken window. He tried to catch his breath, hanging his head. “I'm sorry,” Jasper said.

“Don't be,” Jekyll said. “Are you alright? That looked painful for you.”

“Werewolves are supposed to be able to control their transformations,” Jasper said as Jekyll nodded at his words. “But I can't – I don't know why.”

“That's understandable.” Jekyll smiled at Jasper comfortingly. “I couldn't control my own transformations very well when I was starting out.”

“Own transformations?” Jasper echoed.

“Yes.” Jekyll held up his hand, and Jasper watched as it glowed, before changing shape into a sword blade. He held it for a moment, before he changed it back into a human hand.

“Are you feeling well enough now?” he asked. “Let's begin to pack your things.”

Jasper stared at him, before swallowing, and pointing at one of the cages.

 

* * *

 

“So you were a student at the London School of Magic?”

Jasper nodded. “There, we studied all about magic, but you know, kind of like an outsider would, instead of like a person who practices magic. We studied werewolves, fairies, weapons, and witches; as well as all the magic that they could do.”

“I learned all that too, from my stay at the Death Weapon Meister Academy,” Jekyll said.

“No way – you studied at the DWMA itself?” Jasper asked, his eyes wide. Then he looked away, out the window of the carriage he was in. “I mean, uh, I should've known; you're a weapon, but – I thought you didn't have any ties with it, since you said something about a witch's Society, and the official from the DWMA didn't agree with it..”

“I can see why you would think that,” Jekyll said, “and on that subject, I should tell you that my Society does not have any current ties to the DWMA. But do continue. You said you were studying at the London School of Magic?”

“Ahem, uh, yeah,” Jasper said. “I was working on a project one night when I got bitten by a werewolf. And then after that, it didn't take long for me to know I became one myself. The school kicked me out, and then they must have called the Academy, and...then you found me, getting arrested.” He held two of his old school textbooks to his chest. “That's...basically it, I guess.”

“I see.” Jekyll said. “But don't worry about the past. The present looks much grander for you.”

The carriage made a turn, and a cage to Jekyll's right slid a little onto his shoulder. There was a bit of flapping of wings and some pigeon-like sounds as Jekyll slid it back into place, chuckling.

“So that is your mud phoenix,” Jekyll said. “I am impressed at the number of magical creatures you've managed to care for. And this was all for your studies?”

“Yes, sir, I collected them to study them at first. And then I got attached to them, so I gave them names and kept them around, heh,” Jasper replied. “You don't find that strange, do you?”

Jekyll smiled. “Not at all! I was just like you when I was young. The magic of the world that we live in is breathtaking!”

Jasper couldn't help but smile back. “It sure is,” he said brightly. To think – he had found someone whom he could relate to, by a chance encounter! Granted, they had met in an unusual situation, but still!

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Jasper caught a whiff of exotic herbs and burning wax. He looked around, as Jekyll also peered through the window of the carriage door.

“Speaking of which, it appears we've arrived,” Jekyll said, before opening the door to the carriage. He got out gracefully, and Jasper followed after him, watching his step.

As various staff began to approach the carriage – probably to get Jasper's luggage – Jekyll took Jasper to the stairs leading to a large, white and fancy building. Jasper couldn't help but have his mouth hang open in awe.

“Welcome to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers, Jasper,” Jekyll told him. “Home to some of the most illustrious of London's citizens, and your new home, for the time being.”

“So...witches? And sorcerers? All under one roof?” Jasper asked. He gulped, quite anxious.

Jekyll caught the look on Jasper's face, and led him forward. “Don't be worried – the residents of the Society, the Lodgers, are good-willed at heart. They wouldn't harm anyone. I have made quite sure of that myself.”

“Yes, but, uh...” Would this be offensive? Jasper didn't know, but something (self-preservation? Curiosity? Something else entirely?) possessed him to carry on with his question. “What about the Sway of Magic?”

“Nothing to fear – even witches and sorcerers under the Sway of Magic can be willing to do good.” Jekyll reassured Jasper. “Let us have faith in them.”

The man's smile was so comforting that it was hard to say no to.

Curled up right at the doorway was what appeared to be a little dog. As the two of them approached, the dog opened its eyes, and Jasper noticed that it actually had bits and pieces rotting off it, as if it were a half-decayed corpse. It didn't smell strongly, though, and it got up when it saw the two of them coming in its direction.

“Zosi!” Jekyll said with a tone of endearment, as the dog began to circle them and wag its tail. “How have you been, you little rascal?”

Zosi's response was to bark, and jump up, waddling a bit on two feet before dropping back down. He then moved to sniff Jasper, but its tail was still wagging – that was a good sign.

“I think he likes you,” Jekyll said, and Jasper couldn't help smiling down at the church grim.

Another one of the staff opened the door for Jekyll and Jasper, and they entered followed by Zosi, before Jasper looked around the atrium of the Society. It was well lit, not only by high windows, but also by light bulbs and candles surrounding a circle of runes in the center. Around the atrium as well were what could only be witch items and cursed objects, arranged as if they were on display. There was a wide flight of stairs leading to two large doors, and several floors were above him, not to mention the sheer number of rooms on all the floors. And hanging from the ceiling, to top it all off, was a skeleton of what Jasper recognized as a leviathan.

“This is as close you'll get to seeing a witch's or a sorcerer's home around this end of London,” Jekyll said, almost reverently. “Do you like what you see?”

“It's...different from what I was expecting,” Jasper replied. Then he added quickly, “But I don't really know what I was expecting.”

“People often don't know what to expect when they come face to face with a witch.” Jekyll led Jasper forward once more. “Let's go meet the Lodgers, then. They'll be delighted to see you!”

“Are you sure?” Jasper began to sweat. “Because it might be too much trouble, and I heard witches were reclusive, and–”

A boom interrupted Jasper, and he flinched while Zosi barked. Jekyll, meanwhile, looked to the source of the explosion. Smoke came out from the left hall on the second floor, and a red-headed man came out alongside a large bird with flaming feathers. He coughed, and then looked down at the atrium where Jekyll and Jasper were.

“Dreadfully sorry about that, Jekyll!” the man said, while the bird perched itself on the railing. “We were just practicing a new spell!”

“I see, Mr. Sinnett,” Jekyll called back. “But do remember to clean it up and fix any damages made.”

The bird, on the other hand, craned its long, swan-like neck, and Jasper realized that it was looking at him. It spread its wings, and then flew off the railing to circle around Jasper and Jekyll, before landing in front of them. Jasper looked at it, shocked.

“Is that...a wild phoenix?” he asked.

“No,” Jekyll replied, seconds before the phoenix spontaneously combusted.

The flames grew larger and larger around the phoenix, before they vanished, revealing a man standing in front of them. He had a pleasant smile on his face. “Are you the werewolf who Jekyll rescued last night?” the man asked Jasper.

“H-how did you know that?” Jasper asked, almost totally scared now – he realized now that he was talking to a real sorcerer.

The man replied, “A little beetle told one of our witches.”

“And then you must have heard about it because you are all terrible gossips,” Jekyll added. Then he presented Jasper to the man, saying, “Mr. Jasper Kaylock, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Jonathan Luckett, our resident phoenix sorcerer.”

Luckett held out a hand to shake, and Jasper didn't refuse. He noticed that the man's hand was warm, comfortingly so. “Nice to meet you, Jasper,” Luckett said. “It's strange – I've never met a werewolf before.”

“I...I've never met a sorcerer before,” Jasper squeaked.

“ _I've_ met a werewolf before!” Another voice came from beside Jekyll, and Jasper looked over to see another man walk forward. “She was right terrifying, too!” Then he pointed at his eye. “And she gave me this scar!”

“You always tell the newcomers that story, Mr. Tweedy,” Luckett told the man. “Besides, there are people here who know you got that scar from when you got struck by lightning.”

Jasper was shocked. “Struck by lightning?”

The man nodded. “Yes, and it was bloody beautiful! But enough about me. I didn't catch your name, werewolf!” He put out a hand to shake. “Baxter Tweedy, electric eel sorcerer.”

Jasper turned to shake his hand as well. “Jasper Kaylock, uh...is my name.” He wished he had something amazing to add to his introduction, but all he could think of was “werewolf”. He tried to take his mind off his embarrassment. “Did you really meet a werewolf?”

“Before I came to this Society, yes!” Tweedy said with some excitement. “It was a cold night in November when–”

“Is that the werewolf?”

“Must be!”

“Let's find out!”

Tweedy sighed in annoyance as many other people began to appear, all of them coming towards the atrium, full of chatter. Jasper wished his ears weren't so sharp now – he didn't want to hear that he was the reason they were gathering. Nevertheless, they were coming, and soon a good number of them were crowding around him.

“Hello there!”

“What's your name?”

“Nice to meet you, Wolfy!”

Jasper looked around at everyone, not knowing what to say. He shrank back, trying to withdraw. “I – uh–”

All of a sudden, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he remembered that Jekyll was beside him.

“Now, now, ladies and gentlemen, let's not crowd our newcomer,” he said, walking forward with Jasper in tow. “He needs a moment to settle, I'm sure, before we can show him around our lovely Society. I'll show him to his room first, and then we can get started. Behave yourselves, won't you?”

“With all due respect, Jekyll, we're not children,” someone from the crowd said, a little jokingly.

“Yes, I know, Mr. Mosley,” Jekyll replied. “And I do have faith that you will behave yourselves.”

Jasper looked back at the crowd now behind him, as they were still eyeing him. But they didn't seem like glares of suspicion, as the crowd the night before had looked at him. No, they seemed like they wanted to get to know him better – they wanted to be his friend. At least, that was how he would have described it.

And they were...witches and sorcerers. They were intimidating, in a way, like how Jasper expected they would be. But at the same time...they seemed nice. They didn't look as bloodthirsty as his teachers had said, and they didn't try to turn him into anything or have him explode from the inside.

He was still a bit anxious about his stay here, but he wasn't as scared as he was before.

 


	5. Trying To Be Stricter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jekyll gets a lesson on how to be stricter, and then has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is single-handedly the worst summary for the worst chapter I've ever written. Meh.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy more of the AU! This was more of a filler chapter than anything, though.

“And you only let him off with a warning?”

“Well, what would you expect me to do, Robert?” Jekyll asked, pacing around his office. Beside his desk, Zosi slept soundly. He was careful not to disturb the church grim as he continued, “Mr. Griffin is stubborn. Everything I tell him goes into one ear and out the other.”

Lanyon crossed his arms. “After all this time, Henry, you're still willing to give Griffin another chance? He's had more chances than you have fingers! Not to mention it's bad for the Society's reputation if he ignores you and keeps this up.”

“He can change, like the Lodgers did, I'm sure of it,” Jekyll told him.

“Like you're sure about your assistant Edward Hyde.”

Jekyll looked down.

“Hyde does mean to do good, Robert.”

“Is that why you're letting him do the Academy's work without its permission?” Lanyon asked. “For Death's sake, Henry, you've got to be firmer with them. I know you see change in them, but perhaps if you were a little stricter with them, we could see change faster. Then they'd probably stop testing the Academy's patience.”

Jekyll took a deep breath. “I know.” He waved a hand. “But even if I become firmer, Griffin won't listen to me, and neither will Hyde. In fact, they might only come to resent me.”

Lanyon put a finger to his chin. “Did you try telling Archer to help with Griffin?”

“I'm sure Archer is already trying.”

“And what about Hyde's weapon partner? Do you know who they are?”

“...No.”

Lanyon sighed. “Shame; we could tell them to keep an eye on him as well. But no matter. When the Academy calls us, we will have to assure them that our Society will take full responsibility.”

Jekyll nodded. “And we will.”

From inside his head, Hyde snickered. _From the person who won't admit he has desires he needs to have fulfilled by the other half of his soul. Hey, I need to ask you for something, Jekyll._

“Henry? Are you alright?” Lanyon asked.

“What? Oh, yes,” Jekyll answered. “Why?”

“Nothing, you just had a strange look on your face.” Lanyon pointed at him, and Jekyll looked at himself in the mirror. Only he didn't see his reflection – he saw Hyde, looking pointedly at him, before checking a pocket watch which he had pulled out of thin air. Then Hyde began to tap his foot impatiently.

Jekyll stared into the mirror for a moment, before noticing Zosi slowly waking up, and stretching. Zosi looked up at him questioningly – it seemed he noticed the look on Jekyll's face as well.

“Henry, come on,” Lanyon said, “you're miles away. Is there something on your mind?”

Jekyll looked away from the mirror. “Robert, I'll take care of everything. Don't you worry.”

Lanyon uncrossed his legs, and stood up from his seat. “I know we both want the Academy to notice our Society, but I don't want it to be notorious for defying said Academy, especially now that you've gone against it yet again, taking in a werewolf. The whole point is to prove that witches and sorcerers – and werewolves, apparently – aren't all troublemakers, and neither are we, remember?”

“I remember,” Jekyll said as he walked over to stand in front of Lanyon. “And I'll make sure of that.”

“Good.” Lanyon nodded.

The two men then looked at each other for a while, unsure of how to finish the conversation.

_Of course, if you want to stare so lovingly into each other's eyes, that's fine,_ Hyde commented. _I'll leave you two alone._

Jekyll shook his head. “So I'll see you at your father's dinner party?”

“Yes – yes, Henry,” Lanyon said. He smiled. “You ought to get ready soon. It wasn't easy getting my father to include you in the guest list, so don't be late.”

“You can rely on me, Robert,” Jekyll said, accompanying Lanyon to the door.

 

* * *

 

Once Lanyon was fully out the door, Jekyll turned towards the mirror, where Hyde was sneering at him.

“What do you want, Hyde?” he asked.

_I want to go to the Blackfog Bazaar,_ Hyde said simply.

Jekyll frowned. “You had your chance to go to the Bazaar the other night. But you were too busy with your other pursuits to actually bother to go!”

_I know, I know, Jekyll, I didn't live up to our promise_. _But I'll actually go this time. I'm sure of it!_

“I can't keep giving you these chances,” Jekyll said. “You know that the Blackfog Bazaar is highly illegal, as well as frequented by witches and other magic users. You could get in trouble there – whether you're caught by the police or someone with evil intent!”

_The police will never catch me, my dear doctor!_ Hyde boasted. _And as for someone with evil intent, I can take care of them quite swiftly. Besides, I won't technically be doing anything illegal there; I'll just be looking around. Maybe I'll make a purchase, but nothing too incriminating._

“Like you're the expert on what's incriminating and what isn't.” Jekyll seated himself into the chair behind his desk. “I can't take so many risks. You heard what Robert said; I'm going to be in trouble if one more thing goes wrong! And something will likely go wrong if I let you run free.”

_Oh, so you're going to take my time away, just like you did last night!_

“I never said that, Hyde,” Jekyll asserted. “I just can't let you go running around doing anything reckless! Especially not during such a critical time for the Society!”

_Yes, yes, I get it; the grand Exhibition is only two weeks away, something like that,_ Hyde said. _But if I'm not going to run around doing reckless things, then who else is going to do it for you?_

Jekyll looked down. “I can't indulge every night.”

_But you can't deny that you love what I do for you._ Hyde popped out from the glass of the mirror, just a little. _Face it. I take care of every little desire that you have. And I know you want to go to the Blackfog, don't you? Deep, deep down in your chest, doesn't there beat a heart?_

Jekyll looked away from Hyde, sighing. Hyde then continued, _You want to – so why not let me loose? I swear, I'll make it worth your while. All to keep you sane from this boring life that you lead, Jekyll._

Hyde watched as Jekyll blinked, before looking at Hyde. “Alright,” he said. “I'll let you go to the Blackfog Bazaar tomorrow night.”

_Really?_ Hyde asked, before smiling, giddy. _I knew you'd give in to my demands!_

“But!” Jekyll raised a finger. “On one condition.”

_Oh-ho, striking a bargain with the darkness inside you?_ Hyde crossed his arms, maintaining his unshaken air. _What do you have in mind?_

“I want you to go with Rachel,” Jekyll said.

_...What._

Jekyll only gave him a straight face. Hyde blinked, and then shook his head. _Hell, no! I'm not going to babysit someone on my night out!_

“Of course not.” Jekyll looked Hyde in the eye. “She'll babysit you.”

_No! Absolutely not!_

“I'll ask Rachel if she wants to accompany you on your little adventure,” Jekyll said. “You want to go to the Blackfog Bazaar, don't you? Well, this is the only condition that I'll accept.”

_Well, I won't accept it!_ Hyde insisted. _I don't want anyone to have to control the things I get up to at night! Besides, isn't it better for you if you indulge in this one night alone?_

“It is better for me,” Jekyll said, “but not for you. You're too scatterbrained, and she'll keep you from getting distracted. Not to mention that you get into too much trouble at night, and I would like someone to keep an eye on you for a change. There is no changing my mind on this one aspect.”

Hyde stared at Jekyll, dumbfounded. Zosi sat down beside Jekyll's feet, and Hyde glanced down at the church grim as well. Zosi tilted his head at him, as if waiting for him to respond.

The corner of Jekyll's mouth turned upwards. “Now that I've made my case clear, do you accept?”

_I see what you're doing,_ Hyde snarled, his human shape melting away into a blob, bit by bit. _You're trying to repress my desires, like you do day to day. Well, it's not going to work, Jekyll!_

He morphed into a monster-like shape, made of sticky, green liquid, and shot closer to Jekyll. _I know you! You can't restrain me, not even if you enlist Rachel to help you! Soon you'll be begging to be set free! And whose fault will it be that you're being held back in the first place, hm? There's just no escaping the spirit of London at–_

“Do shut up, Edward,” Jekyll said, unflinching. “It's unbecoming to throw tantrums.”

Hyde growled at him, but Jekyll didn't even bat an eye. He looked down at Zosi, only to find that he was licking at the goop his body was made of.

“So cooperate,” Jekyll went on. “I'll allow you a night out, but only in exchange for spending this night with Rachel. It's just one night, anyone can do one night. There's no need for such hysterics.”

The monster panted, before the goop melted away, revealing the human form underneath. Hyde gave Jekyll an annoyed look, for what it was worth.

_...Ugh, you sneaky bastard,_ he grumbled. _Fine. I'll accept._

 


	6. The Lanyon Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lanyon and Jekyll attend the dinner party of the Battle Club. Is there a potential ally in the picture? And what about Lanyon's father?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part of the story I've been waiting to have you guys read! Of course, one of the plot points in this story doesn't get picked up until the second part, but it's better to introduce it now - and besides, Lanyon and Jekyll have to worry more about the Exhibition than this plot point.
> 
> Another thing is introduced in the chapter - one that I've been talking about to some of my friends in the fandom. If you happen to be one of those friends and know what the deal is, please don't mention it in the comments!
> 
> Anyway, on with the show!

Jekyll arrived at the building of the Battle Club just a few moments after Lanyon and his wife did. Of course, Jekyll didn't know this, and seeing the two of them standing outside the door, he thought that he had been late. So he rushed his “thank you” to the driver of the hansom, paid his fare, and was beside Lanyon in a few seconds' time.

“Seems you're in a hurry,” Lanyon noted, raising an eyebrow.

“What...I'm not late?” Jekyll asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Actually, you're a little early, Henry,” Lanyon's wife Lisa replied. “But at least you're here. Come now, let's go inside.”

Jekyll could do little else but nod as the three of them entered the building. There was a good number of people there, looking at ease in their surroundings. Jekyll recognized many of them as the members of the Battle Club, the small club that Lanyon's father had founded with the support of the Academy. Instantly he felt their eyes on him, and he became a little self-conscious.

_Looks like Gavin Lanyon has quite the gathering,_ Hyde said, more to feed on Jekyll's anxieties than anything. _How are you going to get the people you don't know to support the Society?_

“I don't need all of them; I just need the right people,” Jekyll whispered.

“What?” Lanyon asked. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, no, I was just reminding myself of something,” Jekyll said to him. Well, it wasn't that big of a lie anyway, and so Lanyon turned back around.

Jekyll then looked around the room, and he supposed Hyde had a point – he didn't know who the right people were among those who weren't looking at him, so he might as well ask all of them.

He had just barely glanced over someone's shoulder when a woman walked past him, excusing herself. She was making for the door, it seemed.

_You could follow her; I know you don't want to be here,_ Hyde said.

Jekyll only rolled his eyes. He knew he had to be here, if only because he had accepted Lanyon's invitation. He had to be with his meister, and if someone wanted to leave, well, that was her decision.

“Hold on now, where are you going?” Jekyll heard a woman's voice ask behind him. Lanyon stepped closer, a small smile on his face.

“You can't beat my mother when it comes to leaving parties early,” he commented, his eyes darting in the direction of the woman who had tried to leave, and was now talking to a woman who could only be Lanyon's mother Ingrid. He led Jekyll over to a group of people. “Now, how about we introduce ourselves to some of the other guests?”

Lanyon and Jekyll moved towards a group of men, talking about what Jekyll surmised was the economy of England. Hyde grumbled inside his mind. _Good luck getting those old men to listen to your newfangled ideas about witches._

Jekyll frowned. He didn't say anything, but he mentally asked Hyde to be quiet, and that was enough, he guessed.

“Let me introduce you to my son!”

He heard Lanyon's mother come forward, and he, Lanyon, and Lisa turned around to see her come forward with the woman who had tried to leave. Jekyll put on his most polite smile. This could work too.

“This is Dr. Robert Lanyon, my son, and his wife Lisa,” Ingrid said, gesturing to Lanyon and Lisa, before doing the same for Jekyll, “and this is Dr. Henry Jekyll, my son's good friend.” Then she gestured to the woman. “Robert, Lisa, Henry, this is Miss Callista Redrowe.”

“Good evening, Mother,” Lanyon said brightly. Then he turned to the woman, bowing. “And good evening, Miss Redrowe.”

Jekyll and Lisa bowed and curtseyed respectively as well. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Redrowe,” Jekyll said, and Lisa agreed. “A privilege.”

The woman, Callista, curtseyed to them as well. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said, looking first to Lanyon.

“So you are the son of the founder of the Battle Club,” Callista said. “Are you a meister, like your father?”

Lanyon's smile seemed a little forced, as did his efforts to keep looking Callista in the eye. “I do not formally call myself a meister,” he replied. “But Dr. Jekyll and I did receive formal training at the Death Weapon Meister Academy.”

Callista raised her eyebrows. “That sounds exciting,” she said. “Contributing to the peace and order of mankind. So I assume you both are part of the Battle Club as well?”

“Actually, neither Dr. Jekyll nor I are active members of the Battle Club, but that is because we are busy with our own pursuits,” Lanyon answered. “In fact, we head another organization.”

“Another organization?” Callista asked. “What kind of organization is it?”

“I am sure my dear friend Dr. Jekyll would like to tell you all about it; he is, after all, the one who came up with the whole idea.” Lanyon gestured to Jekyll, and likewise Callista looked to Jekyll.

Jekyll put his hands together. Time to brace himself for a reaction. “You see, Dr. Lanyon and I head the Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” he began. “It's an organization dedicated to protecting and promoting the various witches and sorcerers who want to work for the common good.”

There it was. Callista seemed stunned. She blinked a couple of times, before collecting herself.

“A–a society for witches and sorcerers? Here in London?” was her first question.

“Yes, I know, it sounds like a strange thing to do, especially since the two of us were students of the DWMA,” Jekyll said. “But I believe that witches and sorcerers are capable of good.”

“...You do,” Callista said slowly. Then she smiled wider. “That sounds wonderful!”

Hyde was the one who sounded stunned this time. _What._

“What?” Ingrid asked.

Jekyll hid his own pleasant surprise. “I'm delighted to hear that, Miss Redrowe,” he said. “It is...quite a refreshing change from the usual reactions we get.”

“I do imagine those aren't quite what you would like, Dr. Jekyll,” Callista told him, laughing a little and covering her mouth with a hand. “But I think it is lovely that you would create a Society for such a sentiment.”

Jekyll looked at Lanyon, grinning – he couldn't believe his luck. Lanyon seemed to be examining Callista carefully, before clearing his throat.

“It is a good and noble cause, is it not?” Lanyon said. “Unfortunately, we are in need of supporters, since you know how people react when they first hear about the Society.”

Callista put a hand on her chest. “Well, in that case, I would like to help. But first, I want to see this splendid Society that you speak of.”

“My word! Are you sure, Miss Redrowe? It could be dangerous,” Ingrid warned.

Callista looked at her, smiling serenely. “A little bit of danger is always welcome, especially in this world we live in.”

Inside Jekyll's head, Hyde whistled. _I like her._

“The residents of the Society will behave themselves around visitors, of course, so there's no need to fear,” Jekyll said. “I'll see to it myself.”

“Then that means you need one day's notice,” Callista said. “I'll come visit the day after tomorrow.”

Jekyll felt his spirits lift. A potential supporter, in such a place! He was about to say something more when the butler came out from the dining room.

“Dinner is served,” the butler announced.

 

* * *

 

As the son of the founder, Lanyon had a seat close to his father and mother. He looked at Jekyll, who wasn't seated next to him – in fact, Jekyll was a few places away from him, talking animatedly to Callista. Lanyon watched Jekyll, frowning a little.

But why was he frowning? It was clear that Jekyll was over the moon, having found someone so interested in the Society. And that was a good thing. Right?

He narrowed his eyes as they fell on Callista. Why was she so excited about their Society, anyway? People didn't normally get excited about this sort of thing, so why should she?

He felt a hand on his own, and he snapped out of his thoughts to see Lisa looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Lanyon nodded. “Yes, I'm perfectly fine. I just had an unsavory thought, that's all.”

Lisa nodded. “Does it have to do with Henry?”

Lanyon looked away. “What makes you think that?” he asked.

“A lot of things have to do with Henry for you,” Lisa pointed out, before smiling. “You shouldn't worry so much about him. He'll be fine.”

She patted his hand, and Lanyon looked back to her, before nodding. “Thank you, Lisa,” he said.

“You're welcome,” she said, turning away to another guest. Lanyon blinked, before taking a glance at Jekyll and Callista. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again – awakening a dormant ability.

Lanyon didn't normally use Soul Perception, but he had a bad feeling about Callista, so he had to know if he had a good reason for his fears or not. He focused his sight on Callista, and it wasn't long before he saw her soul.

Her soul...looked like an ordinary human's.

Lanyon blinked again, his sight slowly vanishing. So he had gotten worked up for nothing. His suspicion still remained, no doubt, but it was probably without solid grounds. He looked away from them just as the second course was being passed.

“But of course, I haven't brought you all here just to eat,” Lanyon's father Gavin said above the voices of everyone, causing them all to look at him. “I have an announcement to make regarding the Battle Club.”

Everyone, including Lanyon, watched him as he continued, “A month from now, the Battle Club will be holding a Tournament, for the benefit of the poor weapons wanting to go to the Death Weapon Meister Academy, as well as the pleasure and fitness of everyone. You are all free to compete in the Tournament, and you may also invite your friends to compete or watch. Of course, you are also free not to compete, as I know some of you might be doing.”

Lanyon felt the first cold prick at his heart. He knew that there was only the slightest chance his father was talking about him – most likely he was talking about the non-combatant benefactors of the Battle Club (of which Callista was no doubt one) as well as some others. Still, he felt like he was being thrown into that mix.

Gavin went on, “I know for a fact that there are people in London who would like to compete, even if your skills are lackluster. Well, if you know who they are, I would advise you to tell them not to compete. They could get themselves hurt.”

A peal of classy laughter erupted from some of the snooty ladies and gentlemen. Lanyon gripped his knife tighter – that could be referring to anyone, he tried to remind himself. The prospect of this Tournament wasn't at all alluring to him, anyway. Right?

Yes – it was Jekyll who loved to spar...

Oh, no.

Oh, _hell_ , no. That was just low.

He looked to Jekyll, who was looking up at Lanyon's father, an unreadable look on his face. Lanyon tried to read it nonetheless, before clenching his jaw. He had to do something.

“But enough about those who shouldn't compete,” Gavin said. “I would like to know who is willing to.”

A throat was cleared, and everyone looked at the person who had done so.

“I would like to compete, Father,” Lanyon said.

“Robert, what are you doing?” Lisa asked.

“You?” His father's brow creased. “Robert, you don't have a weapon.”

“I do,” Lanyon returned. “Dr. Jekyll and I will compete together.”

Several of the other guests looked at Jekyll now, whose mouth was full of food. Jekyll swallowed, and then said, “Lanyon, you don't have to do this.”

“In fact, I think I fancy a wager,” Lanyon continued, and a few at the table gasped.

“Robert, do hold your tongue,” Ingrid said, and Lanyon could tell that it was out of concern for the peace in the room. But he had to go on.

He took a breath, and went on, “If I win against the champion, all the people in this room have to give any amount of funds to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers.” He closed his mouth as more gasps followed, but he paid them no mind.

Gavin had a strange expression on his face – he seemed to be wondering whether to take his son seriously or not. Then he took up his utensils. “Alright, Robert, I'll play your game,” he said. “But if you lose or forfeit, Robert, the money remains with us, and you and Dr. Jekyll must never show your faces in the Battle Club ever again.”

Lanyon inhaled, and then exhaled. “I accept.”

“Then that settles it with my son,” Gavin said. Then he turned to everyone else. “Who else would like to compete?”

As the chatter at the dining table turned elsewhere, Ingrid and Lisa looked at Lanyon. “How could you say something like that?” Ingrid whispered.

“I was defending Henry,” Lanyon said simply.

“From what?” Ingrid put down her utensils. “I know you and your father aren't on the best of terms, but he would never make a jab at your friend.”

“He thinks said friend is the reason why I dropped out of the Academy,” Lanyon said angrily. “And knowing him, no matter how much of a gentleman Henry becomes, my father will never approve of him.”

“Robert, don't say things like that,” Ingrid warned.

Lanyon looked at Lisa, who said, “If you are going to go through with this, you have to be careful. I know it's a friendly tournament, but you could get yourself – or your pride – injured if you push yourself too much.”

“I have this under control,” Lanyon insisted, looking at Jekyll. Jekyll was trying to smile amid the people trying to ask him what Lanyon was thinking.

Lanyon shook his head. As much as he was Jekyll's friend, he was also his meister – he ought to start acting like it.

 


	7. The Blackfog Bazaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyde, Rachel, and Jasper go to the Blackfog Bazaar, a place full of wonder and excitement. The problem is, how much excitement can they handle for the night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry about the lame chapter summary - the summaries only get lamer from here.
> 
> The Blackfog Bazaar showing up? So early in my fanfic? It's more likely than you think!

“You didn't have to bring me here; I'm probably just intruding in your time together...”

“Oh, no, it's fine!” Rachel said to Jasper, smiling. “The more, the merrier, right, Edward?”

Hyde only looked away from the two of them, frowning. This was supposed to be _his_ night out, yet Jekyll insisted on having him bring Rachel to the Bazaar. And what was more, Rachel had wanted to bring the new kid too; probably to make him feel welcome or something. No, it wasn't that – it was clear she was smitten by Jasper Kaylock from the moment she met him, and was trying to worm her way into his heart.

Whatever.

Hyde would find a way to enjoy this night, wouldn't he? And Jekyll said nothing about him having them follow _him_ around, right? All he had to do was drag them around as fast as their feet could carry them.

_Hyde, you are not ditching Rachel or Jasper._

“I'm not going to ditch them,” Hyde whispered. “I'm just going to see how fast they can try to keep up.”

“Were you saying something, Edward?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing of importance, love,” Hyde replied.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, but looked back forward, and then they all took a couple more steps in silence. Everything was quiet (and awkward) for a while before they turned a corner, and found what they were looking for.

The Blackfog Bazaar.

Hyde couldn't hold back his gleeful grin, while Rachel and Jasper stared in awe.

Everything was filled with dazzling sights – there was so much to entice the senses, from various different colored fireflies to free samples of potions that could enhance one's appearance. The smell of burning tentacles met Hyde's nose, and the air was thick with herbal smoke. In another stall, gleaming jewels stood proud, ready to imbue their wearers with any magic of their choosing. Exotic fruits and witches casting spells took their place around Hyde, Rachel, and Jasper as they walked around. Then something shook the ground, and Hyde looked up to see a duo of large golems walking by with their enchanters on their shoulders.

Hyde whistled. So this was the Bazaar.

_Astounding!_ Jekyll exclaimed. _I've only ever dreamed of seeing these things!_

“No wonder the Lodgers love this place,” Rachel commented. “Looks like you can get everything here.” Then at the sight of a succubus on a small platform next to them, she frowned. “And then some.”

“Hello, gorgeous,” Hyde said, he himself taken by the succubus's charms. Even Jekyll was quiet as the succubus reached forward and stroked Hyde's chin. He stared at her for a while, drooling a little, until something grabbed his arm and pulled him away – it was an annoyed Rachel.

“You're disgusting,” she said as she dragged him a few stalls away. Hyde collected himself, and laughed it off. “Come off it, Rachel! No one got hurt. You should enjoy yourself, like Jasper seems to be doing.”

“Huh? Where's Jasper?” Rachel looked up, and then around to see Jasper standing at a certain stall, looking at a few magical items. Rachel and Hyde went over to his side, just as the vendor noticed Jasper browsing through the wares.

“See anything you like, boy?” they asked. Jasper flinched. “Uh, sorry, I was just – uh – looking around,” he said, shrinking back.

The vendor looked at Jasper, as if trying to read what he meant, then said, “Well, obviously there's something you want. Maybe I have it, or I know someone who does.”

“No, no, that's fine, you don't have to go through that trouble,” Jasper said, turning away and beginning to walk off. Rachel followed after Jasper, while Hyde looked down at the selection.

There were more ordinary-looking objects, like a comb and a few pens, to strange objects like amorphous amulets and two flowers growing from the same splitting stem.

_If you're going to buy something, buy something simple,_ Jekyll reminded him.

Hyde rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know, quit your nagging,” he whispered. He looked over the things, before something caught his eye.

“What is this?” Hyde asked, picking up a small pendant.

The vendor replied, “Sir, that is an anti-madness pendant. It helps you keep your mind together in a difficult situation.”

“Forget that, it looks neat,” Hyde said. “How much for it?”

 

* * *

 

“Jasper,” Rachel said as she caught up to Jasper.

He looked at her, and then sighed. “Sorry about that,” he said. “But it's fine, I didn't really need anything.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel asked. Jasper looked down, rubbing his arm, before shrugging. “It's fine,” he said. “Not worth the trouble.”

“Anything's worth the trouble,” Rachel said. “What's wrong?”

Jasper's look turned somber. “I just – I don't know, I really can't control my transformations for the life of me,” he said. “It should come naturally to me, but...I don't know why it hasn't. I thought something magical would help me there at least.” He tipped his cap lower. “Because if it did...maybe I could return home.”

Rachel looked at him sadly. This was something she hadn't heard from him before, but she knew the feeling of not belonging at home because of something beyond her control. She looked down at her hands, and then curled them into fists.

“You'll be able to control your powers someday,” Rachel said. “Don't worry about it.”

“You really think so?” Jasper asked.

Rachel nodded. “If I managed to control mine, you can control yours too!”

“Your what?” Jasper queried, but before Rachel could explain, Hyde had returned to the group.

“Look at what I bought!” he exclaimed, holding up a shiny green pendant hanging from a chain. “Looks amazing, right?”

“What does it do?” Jasper asked, and Hyde shrugged. “I don't know, something about warding off madness and all that.” Hyde took off his hat, and then put on the pendant. “You wanted to buy something, didn't you?"

Jasper began to sweat. “It's nothing,” he said. “Just forget about it.”

Hyde looked at him, and then waved it off. “Well, whatever. Let's go see some other stalls.”

Rachel couldn't believe that Hyde could brush off Jasper's issues so easily. She was about to say something when another thing exploded behind them. The three of them turned around to see what looked like firecrackers being popped, and a hazy red smoke came out of the wrappers.

The man popping them was saying something about insanity, but Rachel couldn't hear it, due to them being far away. The smoke, on the other hand, was coming closer to them, and Jasper covered his nose and mouth while the street cleared behind them.

“That's a smoke that spreads a madness wavelength,” Jasper said, his voice muffled. “I thought it was banned by the DWMA long ago.”

Upon hearing that, Rachel covered her mouth as well, while Hyde only scoffed. “Well, the DWMA isn't here, is it?” he asked. “In fact, I think it's time to see if my pendant works!”

“It works just fine, let's get out of here!” Rachel said, moving to grab Hyde, but he dodged her and took a few steps back towards the smoke.

“Edward Hyde, you get back here this instant!” Rachel called after him as she ran in the smoke's direction. “What if you lose control, like those kishin eggs? I can't–” she began coughing, “–I can't have you–”

The smoke found its way into her system, and Rachel began coughing, dropping to her knees. She could vaguely hear Hyde cursing, and other footsteps coming towards her – they must have been Jasper's – but they all seemed far away as something shook within her soul.

Her mind was suddenly clouded, and she cursed the smoke...she cursed Hyde for not taking this smoke, or anything else, seriously...

...she wanted to tear something apart, she wanted to hear Hyde's flesh rip apart...

Something dragged her away from the smoke as she started laughing uncontrollably, and her eyes focused to see Hyde and Jasper pulling her away from the smoke. Jasper was coughing as well, but Hyde seemed just fine...and she could see his amulet shining brightly around his neck...that was what got them into this mess in the first place...

Rachel's hand transformed into a sickle blade, and she was about to swing it onto Hyde when Jasper caught it, his grip unusually strong. In fact, it felt like he would have crushed her wrist were it not for the metal her hand was now. Jasper growled – inhumanly – and then pushed her away, sending her crashing into a barrel of petrified lizards.

That pain was enough to send Rachel back to reality, and she caught a hold of herself, breathing in the fresh air. Hyde stepped towards her, and she got up just as they heard more growling.

The two of them looked at Jasper, and saw him on all fours, baring his teeth and glaring at them with murderous yellow eyes. Fur began to grow over his skin, sparks erupting from him as his face morphed into a snout, and his small frame grew much larger. More people deserted the scene as the transformation finished, and the werewolf took two steps towards them, growling.

Then Jasper howled towards the moon.

“Damn,” was all Hyde could say.

Jasper jumped towards them, and Hyde and Rachel both dodged in different directions. The werewolf landed in the pile of petrified lizards, and then looked at Rachel, huffing out white puffs. Rachel backed away as Jasper crawled towards her, but then a rock flew through the air and hit Jasper's back.

The rock had come from Hyde. Jasper whipped around to face Hyde, who immediately began running. The werewolf charged after him, and Rachel followed, before jumping into the air and transforming.

Once she had turned into a sickle, gravity pulled her back down, and Hyde caught her as he ran towards a corner. He turned sharply as people ran screaming, and Jasper crashed into another stall when he tried to make the same turn. He sprung right back up, launching himself at the pair with now doubled ferocity.

“Edward, why did you have to be so stubborn about using your amulet?!” Rachel asked.

“What can I say; being stubborn is my strength,” Hyde replied, finally leading Jasper to an open space within the Bazaar. “I would have been fine; you and Jasper just needed to get away and I would have caught up.”

“On the off chance that you got affected by insanity, I couldn't leave you alone!” Rachel told him.

“Save the sentiments for later,” Hyde said as he turned around and faced Jasper. His cape billowed behind him as Jasper caught up with them, still growling. But Rachel noticed that his mouth was not in a snarl. No, the werewolf's mouth was set in the scariest of smiles.

“Edward, how did the police manage to subdue Jasper before, when Henry found him?” she queried nervously.

Hyde got into a fighting stance. “Don't know, don't care. I've got to subdue him my own way. Besides, it doesn't look like he's much in the mood for talking either.”

“Talking...” Rachel turned her words to Jasper. “Jasper! Don't you recognize us? It's your friends! We only want to help you!”

Jasper stared at them; his eyes seemed a little guilty. He sniffed the air, and backed away.

“There, that's it,” Rachel said.

Then the guilty look in Jasper's eyes vanished, and he began to snarl.

“Well, it was worth trying, Rachel,” Hyde added as the werewolf charged towards them.

Hyde turned the sickle around in his hand, and hit Jasper's snout with the butt of the sickle's handle. Jasper got thrown back, but he shook the hit off, and Hyde held up a fist, holding the sickle back.

“Let's be careful for once,” Rachel told Hyde. “We have to bring him back to the Society unhurt.”

Hyde shrugged. “Mostly unhurt.” With the blunt side of the blade facing the werewolf, Hyde ran forward and hit Jasper hard upside the head using the sickle, sending him back even further. Jasper barked, and pounced at him, claws first. Hyde ducked, then slid beneath the werewolf.

“Well, since you suggested that we be careful, how do you suggest we get him to calm down?” he asked the sickle.

“I...” Rachel trailed off. “...What'll happen if we try to knock him unconscious?”

“Likely to kill him if we hit him too hard on the head,” Hyde said, standing up. “Unless someone here's got a potion to subdue him, we've got to wear him out.”

“Then why did you ask me if you already knew the answer?”

Hyde didn't answer; he only smiled. He dodged another pounce, and then swung out with his leg to kick the werewolf on the shoulder. The werewolf snapped his jaws at Hyde, and he narrowly got out of the way.

“If we take your route, Edward, it might take too long for him to tire,” Rachel said.

“When I say 'wear him out', I mean we should hit him enough 'till he comes back to his senses,” Hyde explained. “Won't take long now – I can feel it working already!”

What Hyde felt in the next few moments, however, was his foot hitting a rock, and him consequently falling to the pavement. Jasper jumped on him and pinned him to the ground, moving to bite him. Hyde blocked with the sickle, and the werewolf gnawed on the metal. He moved a leg to prepare to kick the werewolf away–

–but then a potion was thrown at Jasper's snout, and a yellow smoke clouded the werewolf's vision, causing him to back away. Hyde crawled out from under Jasper to see an old woman standing beside a potions stall, with another, paler yellow potion in one hand and the other gesturing for a golem to come forward.

Rachel noticed the enchanter's gloves on the woman as the golem came forward, and picked up Jasper as he was trying to get the potion out of his eyes. The woman came forward as well, and grabbed the werewolf's snout before opening its jaw and pouring the other potion inside. All this Hyde watched as well, and Rachel caught the look on his face – he looked sort of surprised at the newcomer.

“Oi, you have to pay for those,” the vendor at the potions stall called.

“I stopped a werewolf and that's the first thing you say to me?” the old woman asked, throwing the empty bottle away. She huffed, and then reached into her pocket for a wallet.

“Excuse me, but I believe I had that werewolf under control,” Hyde said, clearly irked by the newcomer.

“You were openly discussing how to stop it; proves you didn't have a proper plan,” she told him, turning around to walk towards the stall to pay for the potions. “How did students of the Death Weapon Meister Academy get into the Blackfog Bazaar?”

“What – who'd want to be students of that Academy?” Hyde asked, miffed. “In fact, I'm no student – I am the spirit of–!”

“Then why do you have a weapon?” The old woman interrupted, looking back at him after paying.

“I'm training her,” Hyde huffed, as Rachel transformed back into a human. “She hasn't had any formal teaching.”

“If you're the one training her, then you must have been a student at some point,” the old woman said. “Unless you trained by yourself as well.”

“What do you take me for?” Hyde asked, while Rachel looked back at Jasper, who was now breathing calmly, docile in the golem's arms.

“What potions did you use?” Rachel asked, stepping closer to the golem.

The woman smiled a little. “A stunning potion, and then an anti-madness potion. It should help him calm down. I heard you went into the insanity smoke.”

“Yes, that was...not fun,” Rachel said. She would rather not relive the experience. She then cleared her throat. “You've been really amazing, ma'am. Thank you.”

“You ought to keep your werewolf under control next time,” the woman said. “I thought werewolves could control themselves when transformed.”

“Yeah, well, doesn't seem to apply to all werewolves,” Hyde said, putting his hands on his hips. “Are we done here? I have places to be.”

“Yes, sorry,” Rachel said, looking back at the werewolf. “Jasper? Jasper, can you hear me?”

Jasper groaned, and then looked up at Rachel. “What...Rachel?” he asked, rubbing his head. Then he froze, and looked down at his claws, before looking around at the damage. He groaned. “I lost control again, didn't I?”

“Ah, don't worry, we'll find the money to pay the repairs.” Hyde waved it off. “Or not. Anyway, it's the Society's problem now. Let's go before the Bazaar bans us or something.”

Jasper carefully jumped out of the golem's arms, his tail lowered. He bowed at the woman. “Real sorry, ma'am,” he said.

Rachel looked Jasper over, and then tapped Hyde on the shoulder. “Edward, can we give your cape to Jasper?” she asked in a whisper.

Hyde looked at Jasper as well, before sighing in annoyance and unclasping his cape. He then handed the cape to Rachel, who took it and wrapped it around Jasper's shoulders. “There you go,” she said.

Jasper nodded, just a little, before Hyde began to walk away, and Rachel and Jasper followed.

“...Wait!”

Rachel turned around to see the old woman holding out a hand. “Did you say the Society?” she asked. “By that, did you mean the Society for Witches and Sorcerers?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, turning fully towards her. “Why?”

“I thought that was only some silly rumor spread around the Bazaar,” the old woman said. “But that's not important. Are you affiliated with this Society? Can you house others than witches and sorcerers there?”

“Well, we've got two weapons, a magic cat, and a werewolf, so take your pick,” Hyde said, and Rachel looked back at him. He and Jasper had stopped in the path as well. “What do you want with us?”

The old woman seemed to hesitate; her pinched face indicated pride rather that shyness. But she exhaled, and looked at them firmly. “We need a place to stay.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “I fear my golem and I are being followed by someone dangerous, and I need a safe place.”

“Oh!” Rachel said. “Then you could come back with us to the Society, if that's the case.”

“What?!” Hyde asked. “She just rode on our coattails while we were successfully handling Jasper, and already you're offering her a place at the Society?”

“I-I just thought it was a good idea,” Rachel returned. “We were having trouble with Jasper and she assisted us. Besides, Henry would help a poor old woman in need, wouldn't he?”

“Well, Henry's not here,” Hyde said, crossing his arms.

Rachel frowned, but continued. “Come on, Edward. It's only fair if she did something nice for us and we did something nice for her in return.”

“We don't have to have this lot following us around!” Hyde gestured to hem. “A clay golem is fine, sure, but do we have to bring the corpse?”

“Corpse?!” The woman echoed.

“You've got one foot in the grave already, face it,” Hyde replied.

“But she said they were being chased by something dangerous,” Rachel said. “I just want to help her. And if danger does come, we'll be able to help her stop it.”

Hyde seemed to give it a little thought – no, a _lot_ of thought, what with his eyes darting around and his mouth pressed into a thin line – before sighing. “I suppose.” He then held up a finger. “But if the dangerous thing doesn't come, I swear, this will all be for nothing.”

Rachel pointed at him. “You're just annoyed that she was the one who stopped Jasper, not you.” Then she looked at the old woman. “Well, I suppose it's settled! You and your golem can come with us! Just...try not to make so much noise.”

“My golem doesn't make much noise; it's smaller than most golems, don't worry,” the old woman assured her.

As their group moved along, Rachel smiled to herself. It was nice to be nice.

Yet she didn't catch the way Jasper looked at his claws again, full of regret.

 


	8. Visiting the Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jekyll shows Callista around the Society for Witches and Sorcerers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's as minimalist as I can get with the chapter summary, I bet.
> 
> Anyway, we encounter some more Lodgers, and get a big (actually not that big) surprise!

A carriage rolled up in front of the Society for Witches and Sorcerers. It was ornate with gold carvings, and colored a sleek black. The horses pulling the carriage were evidently well-bred, and even the driver looked posh.

But none of that mattered to Jekyll as he stepped out of his own carriage. What mattered was the person inside.

And as the first carriage's door opened, it was clear who was within: the newest potential benefactor of the Society, Callista Redrowe.

“Miss Redrowe,” Jekyll said, walking up to her.

Callista looked to him, her face hidden behind a fan. “You're sure it wasn't any trouble for me to have come? You gave the residents a day's notice?” she asked.

“Of course,” Jekyll said. “In fact, they were thrilled when they got the news.” He inhaled happily, and then the two of them looked up at the building before them.

“So this is the Society,” Callista said. She raised her eyebrows. “I should think it looks a bit posh for a building that houses magic users.”

Jekyll chuckled. “That's just the exterior,” he said, holding out an arm. “Please, let me lead you inside.”

Callista smiled. “Of course, Dr. Jekyll.” She took his arm, and up the stairs they went, as the footmen for both their carriages opened the doors.

They entered the atrium, and Callista looked around. Her eyes were wide, and the hand holding her fan lowered itself slowly. Jekyll couldn't tell whether that was a good sign or not, so he decided to start the tour.

“Welcome to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” Jekyll began. “As you can see, we have an extensive collection of magical items from all over the globe here at the Society.”

“You jest,” Callista murmured, her fan at her side now.

“I would not jest while giving a tour, Miss,” Jekyll said, smiling pleasantly. “The residents have brought them in from all over the world. It's not only the magic users of London that have found a safe haven here, but also magic users from all over the world.”

Callista looked down, at the circle of symbols surrounded by candles. “...Protective runes,” she noted. “Against...demon weapon transformations, as well as...unknown witches and sorcerers.”

“Demon weapons can enter, but only in human form, and there is only one room where they may transform–” Jekyll paused. “Do forgive me for asking, but you can read witches' runes?”

Callista brought the fan back up to her face. “I studied them out of curiosity,” she told him. “As you can see, I am quite invested in learning about the magic of the world.” Her eyes darted back down to the runes. “It also seems there is an enchantment that casts all witch and sorcerer souls as human souls within this building, without the need for Soul Protect to suppress their magic.”

“My gracious,” Jekyll said, looking down at the circle. “I never knew a word of what those runes meant. What school did you study in?”

“I self-studied,” Callista said. Above her fan, there was a glint in her eyes that indicated a hint of a smile. “Am I interrupting your tour, Dr. Jekyll? My deepest apologies.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Jekyll said, blinking. “Let's continue then, shall we?”

Jekyll and Callista walked around the circle, with Callista glancing at the artifacts around the atrium, before they reached the large stairs. “These stairs lead to my office,” he said. “My work is rather dull, though, so my office must pose no interest to you.” Then he gestured around himself. “The rooms of the Lodgers, on the other hand, are quite exciting.”

“Sounds lovely,” Callista said sweetly.

Inside Jekyll's mind, Hyde hummed. _She seems to be a little too accepting of the Lodgers. You know, most people would flinch at the sound of meeting a witch._

Jekyll glanced at Callista. She did seem a little too accepting. Then again, he was accepting of witches and sorcerers, and Callista seemed nice. Plus, he couldn't say anything about it – they needed the money.

 _Oh, it's all about the money, isn't it?_ You _just hate to admit it._

Jekyll then mentally and very politely told Hyde to shut it.

They turned to the left, and walked down the hall, right to the room with the names “Helsby”, “Lavender”, and “Cantilupe” etched on the door. Jekyll knocked on the door, and then at the “Come in!”, he took the doorknob and opened the door.

He showed Callista inside, and saw one of the Lodgers, Mrs. Cantilupe, holding a black cat in her arms. Behind her was a giant water tank, full of various fish of all colors and sizes. She looked up at the newcomers, and smiled.

“Ah, Jekyll! Good to see you,” Cantilupe said. “And this, I presume, is our esteemed visitor?”

“Yes, she is,” Jekyll said. “This is Miss Callista Redrowe. Miss Redrowe, this is Mrs. Eleanora Cantilupe, our leviathan witch.”

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Cantilupe said, putting the cat down and curtseying, while Callista did the same.

“And do I have the pleasure of being introduced too, Dr. Jekyll?” the cat asked, and Callista and Jekyll both looked down at her. “Of course!” Jekyll said, gesturing to the cat. “Miss Redrowe, this is Miss Lily Lavender, our resident magic cat.”

“Where are my manners?” Lavender asked, before turning human in a poof. “It's a pleasure, Miss Redrowe,” she said, bowing.

“What kind of magic do you do here?” Callista asked. She seemed to gravitate towards the fish tank.

“We study fish and water using our magic,” Cantilupe said. “We also test the purity of water.”

“Fascinating,” Callista said, before turning towards the fish tank and placing a hand on the glass. A jellyfish seemed to swim towards her. Jekyll approached, and placed his hands behind his back. “Indeed it is, Miss,” he agreed. Then he looked at Cantilupe and Lavender. “Where is Dr. Helsby, by the way?”

“Inside the tank,” Lavender said, her cat ears twitching.

“So it seems we have a sorcerer in the tank,” Jekyll said. Both he and Callista looked back inside the tank, and indeed, there was the man there, fully dressed, swimming with the fishes inside.

“Is that the Dr. Helsby you speak of?” Callista asked.

“Yes, he is,” Jekyll said. “He functions well above water, but I suppose he likes to go underwater every now and then.”

Just as Jekyll said this, Helsby looked up from the fish he was surrounded by, and saw Jekyll and Callista standing outside the tank. He looked surprised, and a few bubbles escaped his mouth, before he swam towards them, and then up to the opening of the tank. Jekyll waited for him to climb out of the tank and down the ladder before the man cleared his throat.

“So you came to our room first, Jekyll!” Helsby said. “The fish had an emergency, and I had little left to do but help them! You know how it is.”

“I see,” Jekyll said. Then he stepped aside so that Helsby was facing Callista. “Miss Redrowe, this is Dr. Ranjit Helsby, our fish sorcerer.”

Helsby held out a sopping wet hand, grinning widely. Callista stared at the hand for two seconds, before smiling as well and shaking the hand.

Hyde snickered, and Jekyll exhaled, trying to hold his smile together as well.

As Lavender came forward with a towel, Jekyll looked to Callista.

“Well, let's move along, Miss Redrowe,” he said. “There's still so much to see.”

 

* * *

 

Jekyll and Callista moved through the Society, meeting various Lodgers as they went. Many of them showed Callista their work, and Jekyll took it as a good sign that she didn't say anything about their eccentric behavior. Soon they were nearing the end of their tour, with the room of the raven sorcerer Dr. Maijabi, and the company of the crane sorcerer Mr. Bryson.

“Necromancy does seem like a complicated field of magic,” Callista said. “Is it hard to avoid having reanimated corpses wreak havoc?”

“There is a set of principles that I have to follow when raising the dead,” Maijabi told her. “It must only be for studying how the soul works after the death of the body, and after every study I must release the soul. It is too cruel to keep them alive for longer than necessary.”

“Hm,” Callista nodded. She opened her fan, and put it to her face. Jekyll glanced at her, trying to discern what emotion she was feeling.

Noticing the silence in the room, Bryson put his hands behind his back. “The study of souls is quite interesting, is it not? The different properties of different souls...”

Something moved behind them. They all looked in that direction, and Maijabi removed the eyepatch from his left eye. “Jekyll, it appears we have a visitor,” he said.

“Of course,” Jekyll said, getting the hint. “I haven't _seen_ you all day, Mr. Griffin. Care to introduce yourself?”

They heard a sigh, and Griffin faded back into view, crossing his arms. “We have a guest here, Mr. Griffin; you shouldn't be hiding from her,” Jekyll said.

“I wasn't hiding from anyone,” Griffin said. “Well, maybe I was, but–”

“You were watching her,” Bryson deduced. “Well played, Griffin.”

“Fine. I've been watching you two since you stepped into the atrium,” Griffin confessed. “As for why, I guess it would be unwise to tell you.”

“...Who is this?” Callista asked, though her voice did not denote any annoyance.

“This is Mr. Jack Griffin, our chameleon sorcerer,” Jekyll introduced. He waved a hand. “Mr. Griffin, this is Miss Callista Redrowe, our guest.”

Griffin came forward, and Jekyll could tell that he was analyzing the woman. He stopped a few paces in front of her, and bowed just a little.

The fan was still over Callista's lower face, but Jekyll saw her eyes widen. Griffin straightened up, and Callista curtseyed, but as if it were an afterthought.

“What do you do in the Society, Mr. Griffin?” Callista asked.

Griffin looked away. “It's hard to explain. I study the practical uses of invisibility, which can be used for the good of mankind – it really can,” He pointed at Jekyll. “I'm sure Jekyll would be able to explain it in a fancier way.”

Jekyll laughed. “I can't say I would disagree with that.” He switched on the sparkles. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” he said. “But we must be moving on.”

After some formalities, Jekyll and Callista were out of the room. They began to walk down the stairs. “So, how did you find our little Society?” Jekyll asked her.

“It's amazing,” Callista said. “Who knew that all those magic users could do something good for society?”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it, Miss Redrowe,” Jekyll said. “In fact, we're planning a grand Exhibition in two weeks' time, so that the good people of London may know what these witches and sorcerers are doing.”

“And I suppose you need my help for that,” Callista said. “Very well, Doctor – this Society deserves some money.”

 _That's exactly what we need to hear after all those repairs,_ Hyde quipped.

“We are greatly indebted to you, then, Miss,” Jekyll said. “I give you my word that we will not disappoint you.”

A door opened near them, and they looked down to see a door on the side of the stairs ajar. Out of this door then walked Jasper, who turned his head up and saw them.

“Dr. Jekyll!” he said, surprised. “Sorry – I was just checking on someone–” he then froze, as Jekyll tilted his head. “It's nothing, just Mr. Mosley!”

_Poor little wolflet thinks you don't know._

Callista placed her hand on the railing. “Are you a sorcerer too, sir?” she asked.

“No, ma'am – uh – I'm a...werewolf,” Jasper said. “Jasper Kaylock.”

“Nice to meet you, Jasper,” Callista said. Then she turned to Jekyll. “So that's the werewolf you recently took in?”

“Yes,” Jekyll affirmed. “But he's harmless, I assure you.”

“Yeah...” Jasper said, looking down.

 _Oof, you made him feel guilty about last night, my dear doctor,_ Hyde said. Jekyll's stomach dropped as he realized Hyde was right.

“You must do a lot of assuring, Dr. Jekyll,” Callista said. Then she turned to Jasper. “I heard that you tore up a whole street, Mr. Kaylock. Was that on purpose?”

Jasper looked uncomfortable. “I...I can't control it,” he said. “I'm supposed to, but – I'm really sorry about the street, ma'am.”

Callista put a hand to her chin. “Maybe you should try practicing your transformations,” she suggested. “Magic is always better handled when practiced.”

“Oh...” Jasper tried to smile at Callista. “Thank you...”

 _She knows quite a lot about magic,_ Hyde said slowly. _I'll say she's a little suspicious. Maybe you should tell her so._

Jekyll had to resist the urge to scold Hyde then and there.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” Callista asked, and Jekyll realized the scowl on his face was rather evident. “Oh, no, nothing to worry about,” Jekyll said. “Just some rather _persistent thoughts_ I have had as of late.”

“I hope they are not too distracting, Dr. Jekyll,” Callista said. “You might need a little rest yourself.” Then she put a hang to her mouth, giggling a little. “It's probably none of my business, though; do forgive me.”

Jekyll smiled. “Do not worry about me, Miss; I am perfectly fine,” he said. Then after a pause, he went on, “I do believe that concludes our tour, then."

“And that affirms my decision to support the Society,” Callista said.

“Welcome to the Society, then,” Jekyll told her, eyes bright.

 

* * *

 

_Welcome to the Society._

Those words rang in Callista's mind as she listened to her footsteps tapping on the floor of her house. She paced around her sitting room, deep in thought.

The Society for Witches and Sorcerers disturbed her more than it should have.

It wasn't like the Battle Club didn't bother her, either. A group of meisters and weapons from all over London coming together – and it was DWMA-sponsored, to boot. Such a thing would be cause for alarm to an average witch.

But it wasn't...because there was a Society protecting them. And that was a good thing that she was supporting it, right?

Wrong.

The Society didn't protect all witches and sorcerers. They only had so much room – and so much consideration. They only wanted _good_ magic users. As if magic users could be their definition of good!

The witches and sorcerers at the Society were holding themselves back, when they could do so much more! If they didn't hold themselves back by the world's definition of good...by Jekyll's definition of good...

Witches and sorcerers were not meant to be good. They did not deserve people like Jekyll telling them what they should and shouldn't do when they could be so much more by abandoning the rules!

And she was tired of people telling her what she should and shouldn't do.

Callista stopped pacing, and then looked at a framed picture on the wall. She stepped towards it, and put a hand on it. The faces of her late parents looked gently back at her. She then closed her eyes.

She made her decision – she had to ruin the Society. And to do that, she had to ruin Henry Jekyll.

“Soul Protect, release.”

 

* * *

 

In the middle of reading a book, Lanyon froze.

“Robert?” Lisa asked, putting down the teapot she was holding.

Lanyon blinked, before placing his book on the table. Slowly, he walked over to the large window beside them, peering out at the expanse of London.

“I feel a witch's soul,” he said.

Lisa straightened up, and her brows creased. “Does it feel like any of the witches you know from the Society?”

Lanyon shook his head. “It feels familiar, but I know it's not any of the Lodgers.” He closed his eyes. He had to focus...

But just before he was able to pinpoint where the soul was, the wavelength vanished.

He opened his eyes, and he frowned. “It's gone,” he said.

“But it was near,” Lisa added.

Lanyon blinked, and then nodded. “...Uncomfortably so.”

And that didn't bode well at all.

 


	9. Underground Battle Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin sees Archer going somewhere, and decides to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my boys Archer and Griffin reappear in this fanfic, with a chapter all to themselves! It features them, as well as a big offer.

“So you're an enchanter?”

“Are you from Loew Village? Is it true Arachne's ghost haunts the place?”

“Helsby, she's got a different accent.”

“But she could be faking it!”

The old woman stared up at the Lodgers. “I thought I was promised peace and quiet,” she commented, as her eyes darted towards Rachel, who was holding the woman's dinner in her hands.

“I swear, Miss Elizabeth, I didn't mean to have the Lodgers come down here,” Rachel said, putting the tray of dinner down on the table. “I think Hyde told them.”

“Oh, he didn't,” Lavender said. “One of us found out about it.”

“One of you? But who...” Rachel blinked, and then groaned. “Ugh, Mr. Griffin, why would you follow me down here?”

Griffin faded back into color from behind Helsby. “It was too big of a mystery, the way you and Jasper kept sneaking down to Mosley's basement room,” he said, causing Helsby to jump. “You wouldn't even let Mosley down here; I thought you two were–”

“Enough!” Elizabeth said, putting her hands up. “Either everyone stops asking me questions, or I'll activate my golem.”

Griffin looked up at the golem, standing silently behind Elizabeth's chair. Its glowing, hollow eyes didn't exactly look like the epitome of peace.

“Sorry,” Mosley said. “We just wanted to know who's down in my basement.”

“Yes, I am quite curious as to who you are, too.”

Griffin looked up with the others to see Jekyll standing at the entrance to the basement. He descended the stairs, and the Lodgers hushed. Behind Jekyll was Jasper, muttering, “I'm sorry, I tried to make him leave her alone!”

“Hyde let something slip about our new guest, and I decided to check if it was true,” Jekyll said. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Don't worry, Jasper.”

Elizabeth stood up from her seat, frowning. “I suppose you are the founder, Dr. Jekyll,” she said.

“And you are a new resident...” Jekyll paused. “My apologies, what was your name?”

“Elizabeth Clerval,” she said simply.

“Sounds like a combination of names from the story of Frankenstein, when I think about it.” Jasper commented. When everyone looked at him, he hid behind Jekyll. “Sorry, I just – I don't know why I said that.”

“That's a horror story around the Witches' Realm,” Helsby said. “We don't talk much about it.”

“Frankenstein?” Rachel asked.

“It was a story about an enchanter who made a demon weapon out of a golem,” Virginia told her. “Decades ago, he found the secret to making demon weapons, and went right to grave robbing to collect the souls of weapons and witches. Then when he made a weaponized golem that he could resonate with, he terrorized many small towns, before being chased by Death's soldiers all the way to the Arctic, where he died.”

“Of course, that's a story designed to scare children away from being too adventurous with magic and golem making,” Elizabeth dismissed. “As a golem maker myself, I wouldn't pay too much attention to it. My name was just unfortunate.” She walked up to Jekyll. “Are you here to take me out of the building?”

Jekyll put a hand up. “Not at all. Hyde informed me of your situation as well. I just wanted you to know that your current room already belongs to another one of the Lodgers. Would you like to move?”

“I refuse,” Elizabeth said. “I mean, I am sorry about displacing one of the residents, but this is the only room where my golem will fit. Even if it had to crawl through the door above.”

“We can always make new accommodations, Miss Clerval,” Jekyll said. “I have to help a good soul in need whichever way I can.”

Griffin rolled his eyes. Typical of Jekyll.

“Oh, that's fine; I'll just sleep in Helsby's room until the new room is made,” Mosley conceded.

“That's what cost you your room in the first place,” Virginia said. The other Lodgers then snickered, while the tips of Mosley's ears and whatever was visible of his face turned bright red.

Griffin had to laugh a little himself, before he noticed a certain blue coat at the top of the stairs. Just as quickly as he had noticed it, though, it moved away from the doorway.

“...Archer?” Griffin asked.

 

* * *

 

After turning invisible and going out of the room, Griffin caught sight of Archer and followed him out of the Society. He turned visible again – he couldn't have his Soul Protect on and be invisible at the same time – but kept sneaking after Archer, following him through the streets of London. He followed Archer until he reached a certain building, and knocked on the door thrice.

The door was opened, and someone peeked out. A short conversation ensued between this person and Archer, and Griffin caught Archer uttering something that sounded like a password. With that, the person at the door let Archer inside, closing the door behind him.

Griffin frowned. He considered his options, before deciding that he wanted to see what was on the other side of the door. He took a deep breath, and walked up to the door of the building, before knocking on the door thrice. The door opened a bit, and Griffin noticed that this person watching the door was a woman as tall as him.

“Codename?” she asked.

“I don't have one,” Griffin said curtly.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Password?”

“Wavelength...?”

An unimpressed expression greeted him. “Who invited you?”

The next thing Griffin knew, he was being forcibly pulled into the building and towards a small room, thick and heavy with the smells of tobacco smoke and alcohol. The woman brought him before the room, and shouted over the noise of the people gathered there.

“Clockwork!” she yelled. “You let someone who isn't a member sneak o'er 'ere?”

Griffin saw Archer turn around, and spit out his drink when he recognized him. He wiped the liquid from his mouth, and then stood up. “Yeah, I know him,” Archer said. “But he's a sneaky fellow – I didn't even notice he had followed me here.”

“What, did he turn invisible on you?” the woman asked.

Archer laughed nervously. “I'm sure we can sort this out,” he said. “Let's just send him home, I'm sure he won't say a word about this to anyone.”

“And what if he does?” another woman's voice asked, and Archer and the woman holding Griffin looked up to see a woman seated at the largest table, surrounded by men and women. Griffin noted that they all looked as rough as she did.

The woman who had spoken stood up, taking a cigarette out of her mouth. “The police mustn't know this ring exists. If he opens his mouth, we're through.” Her look turned dangerous. “We ought to teach him a lesson.”

Griffin gulped. Archer stood in between the table and Griffin. “Ladies and gentlemen, we don't need to do that!” he exclaimed. “What if we have a fair fight? If he wins, he gets to go free. He's actually really good, trust me!”

The others looked among themselves, and the woman nodded. “Smart move, Clockwork,” she said. “But if he loses, we get to do whatever we want with him. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Ares,” Archer said firmly.

As the group of people made noises of either cheer or dissent, the woman holding Griffin let go of him, and he looked up at Archer.

“Sorry 'bout that, Griffin,” Archer said. “But the rule is you have to fight here, whether you like it or not.”

“So this is where you go every night when we can't find you,” Griffin returned. “Now I know you're not in any place to give me lectures for fighting DWMA students."

“Alright, first of all, you're not supposed to fight with the DWMA, because it's bad for the Society.” Archer crossed his arms. “And second, this isn't so bad a place to be. Sure, a lot of people 'round here are violent. But I just like to fight sometimes, and these people understand the feeling. Do you know what I mean?”

Griffin grinned. “...And you call me the bloodthirsty one.”

Archer chuckled. “Fair point.” He plucked something out of a small box on a nearby table. “Cigarette?”

Well, it had been awhile since he had last smoked, so Griffin took it, and Archer handed him a match as well. As he lit the cigarette, a girl walked up to Archer.

“Clockwork, you sure your friend can win this fight? We don't even know who he's going to fight against,” she said.

“Atalanta, have faith in him,” Archer told her, conviction in his voice. “At least, I know he's gonna survive.”

“Wish I had that much conviction.” Atalanta placed her chin in her hand, and then grinned. “Well, if things get too bad, we can always jump into the stage!”

“That's against the rules!”

“Ares doesn't follow them bleedin' rules anyway!”

Griffin watched the two of them laugh, something cold washing over his stomach. He narrowed his eyes, exhaling a puff of smoke.

 

* * *

 

Griffin was given an array of weapons before the fight. Archer had told them nothing about Griffin's true nature, and he insisted that it was better this way. So for the time being, he would fight without magic. He looked over the array for a few seconds, before picking out a revolver and loading it.

“Ready to go, old man?” Ares asked from behind him.

Griffin huffed, and turned towards her. “I prefer the term 'albino',” he said.

“I don't even know what that means, old man.” Ares laughed after she said this, and Griffin frowned. “Fine, fine – who am I going to fight, anyway?”

Ares held out her hand, and one of the men beside her gave her a club. “Me, of course!” she said, taking the club. “No demon weapons, one on one, no holds barred. Unless you want to forfeit!”

Griffin frowned, pointing his gun at her. “And you think I'm going to forfeit so easily.”

“Knew you'd say something like that,” Ares said, smirking. “Your move, old man!”

Griffin growled, and aimed his gun at her, before firing. Ares dodged, and twirled her club around in her hand, before running forward and going down, sliding on her knees with her club held high. Griffin saw what she was doing, and dodged before she could hit him in between the legs. But as she slid past him, she didn't seem annoyed – she only laughed.

“Come on, keep up, old man!” she said, halting and getting on one foot. “Unless you're too afraid to hit a woman!”

Griffin turned around. “You just don't know when to shut it, do you?” he said, firing again. Ares dodged still, but only narrowly – the bullet grazed her left arm. She cried out, an the crowd around them made more noise.

Griffin then readied himself as Ares stood up, and held her club tighter. “Well, you caught me there,” she admitted. “But I'm afraid that won't save you!”

She came forward and swung her club towards his right side. Griffin blocked with his revolver, but stumbled back nonetheless, and Ares found her chance to swing her club back towards him, this time aiming for his abdomen. This time it hit, and Griffin fell to the ground.

As Griffin tried to get up, Ares stepped towards him, and with the club struck him across the face. The hit caused Griffin to drop the gun, and he landed on his hands and knees.

From the crowd, Griffin could discern Archer's voice. “Alright, I think that's enough!” Archer said. Griffin looked towards that voice, and found him seated next to Atalanta. Something ached in Griffin's chest, and he felt around for his gun.

“Looks like Clockwork's faith in you was misplaced,” Ares said, swinging her club back over her shoulder. “Any last words before I beat you?”

Griffin breathed heavily, looking at her. There was only one way out of this mess, even if Archer wasn't going to like it.

“Soul Protect,” he said, “release.”

He felt the cover fall away from around his soul, and many of those gathered around began to panic.

“A sorcerer!”

“I felt his soul!”

“He's gonna kill us!”

“He's a sorcerer?!” Ares asked, dropping her club. “Fuck – I'm leaving!”

Others followed suit, and Griffin finally got to his feet, before vanishing from view. He looked around, and saw Archer turning his head left and right, possibly trying to find him as well. He ran as quickly as he could towards Archer, and took his hand before leading him out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Well, all things considered,” Archer said, looking over the bruise on Griffin's cheek, “that could have gone a lot worse.”

“You think?” Griffin asked. He sighed, and leaned fully back against the wall he was seated by. “Is that woman always so violent?”

Archer straightened up. “Ares? As Maijabi would put it, she has a bloodlust wavelength,” he said. “She gets her fill from fighting and watching other people fight. You know, she wasn't the leader when I joined; she just rose up the ranks. Not many of the others liked it. But she hasn't killed anyone, so I think it's fine.”

Griffin nodded, and then closed his eyes. Archer stared at him, and then looked through his coat, before pulling out two boxes – one matchbox, and one cigarette box. He held them out towards Griffin.

“Want one?” Archer asked, and Griffin opened his eyes, before taking a cigarette and a match. “Thanks,” he replied.

Archer watched him pop the cigarette in his mouth and light it, before putting out the match. He bent down again, and this time sat down beside Griffin, against the wall. They were silent for a few moments, with the smell of tobacco filling the alleyway.

“Are you sure you're alright, though?” Archer finally asked, as Griffin took the cigarette out of his mouth.

Griffin shrugged. “The pain is beginning to numb, so I think that's a good sign.” Then he looked at Archer. “Though I might have made you infamous for bringing a sorcerer to an underground fighting ring for weapons and meisters.”

“Ah, it'll be fine,” Archer said. “It was bound to come out that I'm friends with witches and sorcerers anyway.”

The two of them chuckled, and Griffin put the cigarette back in his mouth. He sucked in some smoke, and Archer brought his knees to his chest, watching the man beside him for a little while longer.

“So...” Griffin said, tilting his head back, “...who's Atalanta?”

“Atalanta?” Archer blinked. “She's the one who invited me into the fight ring, back when I was still on the streets.” He looked away. “You know, I've known her for years, and we battle together a lot, but I still don't know her real name. Don't think she knows mine, either.”

Griffin removed the cigarette from his mouth again. “Are you two...?”

“Oh, us? No, nothing like that,” Archer said. “We pair a lot, but she's not my meister.”

He looked at Griffin, who looked a little thoughtful, before exhaling some more smoke. “Well, if that's the case...what about the other Lodgers?”

“I help them a lot, too, with their dangerous exploits and such, but no,” he replied. “I've just...never felt that spark with anyone, that's all.”

The conversation was veering into uncomfortable territory, but Griffin pushed on, “Archer, you can resonate with practically everyone. I bet you could even resonate with Hyde or Lanyon. So why can't you choose a partner?”

“I don't know!” Archer said, resting his head on his knees. “I don't – I mean, it would be nice if someone could be my permanent partner, but–” He sighed. “No one even wants to be my partner.”

More silence. Archer looked down at his feet. He wanted a partner, he really did. Whether he went to the DWMA or not, it would feel great. But he knew everyone thought he was just a tool. To the underground fight ring, he was what people like Atalanta used to win. To the Society, he just maintained Bird's plants and let himself be used so the Lodgers could evade death once more.

Maybe he thought that if he fought often, if he let himself be held, he could forget. But the truth always came back to haunt him – everyone thought he was a thing, a weapon, not a person. Everyone thought that.

“I want to be your partner.”

Archer looked up at Griffin. Griffin blushed, and then looked away. “...What?” Archer asked, still trying to process what he had just said.

“I said...I want to be your partner.” Griffin told him. Then he turned back to Archer. “Does that bother you?”

Archer's mouth fell open.

“Archer?”

Without thinking about it – without thinking much about anything – Archer stood up, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I...” Archer said. “...I'll think about it.”

Then he tucked his hands into his coat pockets, and walked away from Griffin.

Archer could hear Griffin calling after him, and he felt guilty for leaving him. But he was sure Griffin could find his own way back to the Society – and he just needed to be alone.

Someone... _wanted_ to be his partner?

That couldn't be right.

 


	10. The Weakest Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callista gets right down to business, and meets people she thinks will be very useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thought you'd finally like to see Callista in action!

Well, being on top of a roof and waiting for a vigilante was probably not how Callista expected to spend a normal evening.

She would have explained her decision thus: after making the decision to ruin the Society for Witches and Sorcerers rather than the Battle Club, she decided to do a little research. Using her connections and previous newspapers that she had collected, she found out everything that she could on the Society. She searched for any scandal (that wasn't already its whole premise), anything involving its founders, any crimes committed in its name, until she found something that stood out of the ordinary in her eyes.

There was a vigilante pair associated with the Society. The papers hadn't given any clues as to who they were, but a visit to the pubs they had battled in gave the name of the meister: Edward Hyde. The weapon, on the other hand, went by a name that started with the letter “R”, but none of the witnesses knew the name. All they knew was that the weapon was a petite woman that could turn into a sickle.

Callista then extracted more information on this Hyde. He traveled by rooftop, frequented pubs, slept around, and was always up for a brawl. He didn't seem to have any qualms about who he was fighting as long as they were ready to fight. And he seemed intent on having his weapon absorb the souls of the kishin eggs they took down, like an average DWMA student would. And yet, despite all these things, the Society never seemed to enforce any disciplinary action on Hyde.

So who was Edward Hyde?

She hoped that by waiting in disguise on this rooftop, she would find out.

A dark shape jumped on top of a few roofs in the distance. Callista snapped out of her thoughts, and watched the figure as it came closer and closer. She tipped her large witch's hat lower, crouching down, and took a few steps back, hanging on to the top of the roof.

It didn't take long before the figure came to her roof and – of all the luck! The figure stopped on this roof! Callista's eyes widened, and tried to keep herself hidden.

“Did you lose sight of it?” a woman's voice asked, and Callista noticed the sickle that this person was holding. It matched the description of the weapon that the witnesses gave. In fact, with his top hat, unruly blond hair, and tattered black cape, this man in front of her matched the descriptions as well.

She watched as the man huffed. “Well, what do you think?” he replied. “I don't understand how a kishin egg that big can move so fast.”

“Well, we have to find it. We can't let it run loose.”

“You know, love, that sounds like something Jekyll would say,” the man commented, almost flippantly. “I don't like it.”

Callista's curiosity was piqued now. She had caught Jekyll's name – so this was definitely Hyde. He yawned, and then went on, “After this, I'm going to Blackfog again. Hopefully I'll see something new there.”

“You never know what kind of trouble you might find there, Edward,” the sickle told him.

Hyde's response was to shrug. “At least I won't be inviting any more old enchanters from who knows where.”

He then prepared to jump off the roof, and Callista made the mistake of shifting her position – she slipped, and her foot displaced a few roof tiles. At that sound, Hyde looked up.

It was uncommon for upper class ladies to curse, but Callista did so anyway.

“Ooh, I hear someone there,” Hyde said, coming closer. “It's not polite to be sneaking around.”

Callista panicked internally, before she realized that she didn't have to be. Hyde probably didn't know who she was, and even if he knew her name, he wouldn't know her face. It wasn't like she was famous. So she sucked in a deep breath, but tipped her witch's hat low over her face just in case.

“To be fair, though, jumping on rooftops isn't exactly a thing for a gentleman to be doing,” she said, pulling herself up, and then standing on the roof, much like how Hyde was. She then grinned widely as Hyde took a look at her.

“A witch,” the sickle said.

Hyde then smirked, and rested the blunt edge of the sickle over his shoulder. “What's your business here, witch?” he asked. “Not causing trouble, I hope.”

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” she lied, taking on a tone that was more cheery than her usual one, and maintaining her smile. “I was just enjoying a night in London, and then you showed up. Big news, you are. What did they call you? The spirit of London at night, I assume?”

He smiled wider, and pointed the sickle at her. “That's me!” he said. “Honored to meet an admirer. But tell me who you are, sweet.”

“I don't think it's your business to know that yet,” Callista said. “I must admit, though, it's just a pleasure seeing your face.” Then she looked over at the weapon. “And your little sickle, too.”

Hyde looked down at the sickle as she said this. “I don't like this, Edward,” the sickle said.

In response, he rolled his eyes. “Rachel, it's not every day a witch expresses admiration for me, no matter how suspicious,” Hyde told her.

Rachel. Another problem solved.

“But I must be going now,” Callista said. “It really is a shame. I would have liked to know you better.”

With that, she jumped off the roof – and flew away, her large skirt moving like a swimming jellyfish.

Flying over the buildings of London, she thought that it could have gone a whole lot better. But it wasn't what mattered. What mattered now was formulating a plan, and exploiting the Society's weakest link in the chain.

 

* * *

 

Hyde watched her leave, before dropping the smile from his face. Rachel seemed to sense this change in her meister's demeanor, for she asked next, “That was close, wasn't it, Hyde?”

“I'll say,” Hyde said, turning away from the witch's direction. “There's a witch running loose in London, one that Jekyll probably hasn't heard of, and she knows who I am.” A corner of his mouth turned upward once again. “Very, very interesting.”

“Edward...” Rachel sounded concerned.

“Do calm down a little, Rachel!” Hyde went on. “If that witch tries anything, I can take her on with no problem!” He took a step back, and then ran towards the next roof, before jumping onto the one after that.

“Keep an eye out!” He leaped on top of a chimney, and looked over the wide expanse of London. “You never know where the kishin egg may have gone next!”

Yes, the thrill of the night was back, and as the wind moved through his hair, he felt free.

But the witch he and Rachel had encountered wasn't deep in the back of his mind.

He could have sworn...that her voice sounded familiar...

He didn't remember it – but maybe Jekyll did. A shame he couldn't ask, not when Rachel was in his hand.

There was a hissing sound behind him – one that sounded much like a snake. Rachel was the first to see what it was, and gasped. “Edward!” she called. “Behind you!”

The hissing grew closer, and Hyde's smile only grew wider.

“Right on time,” he said, spinning around on the chimney and coming face-to-face with the kishin egg behind him. It opened its snake-like mouth, and Hyde steadied himself as much as he could on the chimney. He licked his lips.

“Your soul is mine!”

 

* * *

 

The next night, Callista thought that Hyde would be out again, so she went out wearing her witch ensemble again, hoping to run into him. Maybe she could get more information out of him; maybe she could even find out some things about his weapon.

What she didn't expect to see was an enchanter on the streets of London, followed by a parade of golems.

Callista looked at him, landing from her flight onto a roof. The golems seemed to be shaped after animals, rather than humans. The enchanter himself had a wild look on his face, and a large beard to match. Yet he also appeared intent – there must have been a reason why he was just walking through the streets.

His back was soon turned to her, and Callista thought it safe to come out – but then the man abruptly turned, and saw her standing on the rooftop. Without warning, he took out a rifle and began firing at her.

Callista jumped in the air, and dodged bullet after bullet. She then summoned magic tentacles, and shot them at the man, trying to strike him, but he sent a bear golem to stand in front of him and block the hit. At this, the man then aimed over the bear's shoulder at her, and took another shot, but she dodged again in time.

Flying to a lower altitude, she created some poison barbs through magic, and sent them flying towards him. But he moved another golem, a lion one this time, to protect him from this attack. Callista landed on the pavement just as the man walked past the golems and reloaded the rifle.

“Oh, for goodness's sakes,” Callista said, just as he began firing again. “Bell Shield!” She brought out a shield, and the bullets became absorbed in its plasma. Quickly, she then removed it and summoned a pair of tentacles, having them rush forward, and soon the man was wrapped in them.

“Poison Shock,” she said, and a burst of pink sparks ran through the tentacles to electrocute the man. He screamed, and at the sound Callista was glad no one seemed to be around. So she stopped the shocks, and slowly walked towards the man.

“Now, good sir,” Callista said, “why were you firing at me?”

The man looked up at her, too tired to struggle from his holds. “Like it would matter to you, witch.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ah, an Englishman,” she recognized from the accent. “Let me guess: animal-like golems, wild hair of someone who's been away from civilization. You look just like how I would imagine the infamous Dr. Moreau.”

“I _am_ Dr. Moreau,” the man said.

Callista paused. “Huh. I didn't expect to get that right.” Then she shrugged. “Well, if my memory serves, you went mad trying to recreate the demon weapon formula Frankenstein made. So you were trying to get my soul for your research?”

“Then I'll get my hands on that Frankenstein,” Moreau added. “And I'll finally have the perfect weaponized golem.”

“You mean Frankenstein's formula,” Callista said. “The man's been long dead.”

“The man's alive.” Moreau finally began to struggle against the bonds. “And he's in this city somewhere. And when I get my hands on him, I'll take your soul as well, witch.”

Frankenstein? In the city? That would certainly make the papers. So why hadn't it? Callista straightened up. Well, all she knew was that she had to at least get Moreau to stop targeting her.

“ _At least I won't be inviting any more old enchanters from who knows where.”_

Those were Hyde's words from the other night, and they came to her mind now. She blinked, thinking, and then smiled.

“Not to fret, Doctor,” she said. “I have an offer you can't refuse. I think I know where Frankenstein is, and I can give you his location, as well as another magic soul for your research. But,” her smile grew wider, “you have to do two things for me in return.”

Moreau stared at her.

“What are they?”

 


	11. Jasper Needs Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lodgers are excited to get Jasper started on controlling his transformations, but Jasper isn't too thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, nothing to feed the soul like more Lodgers!

The previous morning, within the Society, Jasper was not expecting to be taken to what the Lodgers called the “Training Room” after breakfast.

“Let's get right to it, Wolfy!” Tweedy said, clapping his hands together. “Today we brought you here to help you with your powers!”

“M-my powers?” Jasper asked.

“You mentioned it over dinner last night, remember?” Pennebrygg said. “You wanted to control your powers.”

“Yes, but – I didn't really...”

“Expect us to take you seriously?” Flowers inferred, walking up to the now nervous Jasper. “Jasper, don't feel bad about asking us for help. We're always ready to help a friend in need.”

“Oh, thanks, but...” Jasper held his arm. “I have to feed my creatures.”

“Cantilupe and Sinnett are taking care of them,” Lavender told Jasper. “Don't worry, they're both good with extraordinary creatures. Considering their magic, though, that's not a surprise.”

Jasper looked down. How thoroughly had they planned this out? “I...I don't know if I'm worth all this.”

“Of course you are,” Mosley said. “Just because you're different doesn't mean you're any less welcome here. You're our friend now, and friends deserve the best.”

“Oh...” Jasper looked around, at all the Lodgers gathered around him. “Thank you. I don't know what to say.”

Tweedy placed an arm round Jasper's shoulders. “You could start with 'let's begin our training'!” he said. “Now tell us, what exactly are you having problems with?”

“Well,” Jasper said, scratching the back of his head. “I don't know how to control my transformations. Or control myself during a transformation. It's as I I lose myself to the werewolf, I think.”

“Well, I'm sure we can teach you how not to lose yourself to the madness,” Luckett cut in, smiling reassuringly at him. “I think it is in fact similar to how we curb the Sway of Magic.”

“You can control that?” Jasper asked. “I thought it was something that all witches and sorcerers submitted to–” He caught himself as he realized who he was taking to. “Sorry.”

Luckett chuckled. “It's not so much controlling it as it is channeling it into different pathways. For example, we still indulge in destroying things, but we only destroy what we have to.”

“Is your room at various times in the day on that list?” Pennebrygg joked, and Luckett laughed harder. “Not quite, but we can always replace a room,” he said. Then he looked back at Jasper.

“What I mean to say is, you cannot exactly force what you call the werewolf to your will, much like I cannot force myself to stop setting my room on fire every now and then,” Luckett explained. “All you can do is tame it and hope you see eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye,” Jasper echoed, nodding. Then he felt around in his pockets. “Do I have to take notes?”

Tweedy barked with laughter. “It's inspiration, Wolfy!” he said. “That goes in here,” he pointed at Jasper's heart, then at Jasper's head, “not in here.”

“Oh.” Jasper blushed. Then he looked at Luckett again. “You...you can turn into a phoenix, right? Can you show me how you transform so easily? I mean, you can control your transformations at least,” he said.

“Of course, I can show you how I control my transformations,” Luckett replied. “But mind, it's different for all of us. You just have to find the way you're comfortable doing it.”

Jasper nodded again. He was anxious to find out what their secret was. In front of him, Mosley put his hands behind his back.

“The way I transform, I literally have to trick myself into thinking I'm an animal,” he explained. “I concentrate on what I want to be – I put myself in the mind of my familiar – and then...”

In a poof, the human form of Mosley had gone, and in its place was a small mole. It opened its mouth, though, and spoke with Mosley's voice, “...I become the animal.”

“So I have to concentrate,” Jasper noted. He almost reached for his notebook that was in his pocket, before stopping himself.

“Well, it is much different for us magic cats,” Lavender said, trotting forward. “When I just fee like turning into either a cat or a human, it just happens.” She closed her eyes, and as if to prove her point, became a cat out of a cloud of mist.

“See?” Lavender said. “Nothing to it. Don't madden yourself trying to force it.”

“I...see,” Jasper replied. Concentrate, but at the same time, don't force it. Okay, he could work with that...probably.

“Don't confuse Mr. Kaylock,” Luckett said to the cat and the mole, who both promptly returned to human form. He then looked to Jasper. “Let's put it this way: there is an animal lying deep within your soul. Focus on it, and as much as you can, become one with it.”

As he was saying this, he closed his eyes, and after he finished explaining, he summoned fire that started at his feet and consumed his entire body. Jasper watched in awe as his flaming form shrank a little, and then the fires parted to reveal a tall wild phoenix, spreading its brilliant red and orange wings.

“Become...one...” Jasper said. He stared at the phoenix for a while, before shaking his head. “Uh, you've all taught me some very good things, but I don't know if it's going to work out for me. A cat and a mole, fine; a phoenix, fantastic – but a werewolf is terrifying. And I don't think I want to risk losing control of myself around you.”

“We're witches and sorcerers, we can handle it!” Tweedy said.

“Yes, what really would be terrifying is if Jasper learned other forms of magic besides transformation, and used them against us,” Pennebrygg said.

“Oh, Jasper's a werewolf, he _does_ have the capacity to learn other magic!' Flowers said. “Isn't that exciting, Jasper?”

“Uh, I don't–” Jasper tried to say, but Lavender cut in, “Yeah! We could teach him offensive magic!”

“Defensive works too,” Pennebrygg said.

“How about spatial, for a change?” Tweedy asked. “Luckett, it's about time you and Maijabi got an apprentice before you two go six feet under!”

Jasper put his hands up “Everyone. I don't really...”

“Let's teach you transformative magic, and then another type of magic!” Lavender said to him. “Any kind! Your pick, Jasper!”

“That's a good idea, right?”

“What do you think?”

“We know you can do it!"

“Tell us, Jasper!”

“I...” Jasper stood in the midst of all these people, not knowing what to do. “...I...”

He made for the door, and ran outside as fast as he could.

 

* * *

 

He didn't even know where he was going until he ran into someone, and stumbled back. Jasper refocused to see that he had bumped into Elizabeth, of all people. He put his hands up. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” he apologized.

“No, it's fine,” Elizabeth said. “Something exciting needed to happen to me out here anyway.”

“Oh...” Jasper said. He nodded, before realizing something. “You're...outside your room.”

“I have to know where the bath is,” Elizabeth told him. “And I have to get some fresh air,” she crossed her arms, “despite vot a certain someone says!"

Jasper stared at Elizabeth, just as she had realized what she had done.

“Your accent changed, Miss?”

“N-no, it didn't,” Elizabeth said, reverting back to her English accent. “You must be imagining things.”

She walked past Jasper, and Jasper didn't say anything to stop her. He could have sworn he heard a different accent. He just couldn't figure out what it was.

 

* * *

 

That night, when the Training Room had emptied, Jasper went back to it, and stepped inside. He looked around at the large room, devoid of furniture to make space for possible fighting. He stepped in the middle, and inhaled, then exhaled.

He wanted to control his being a werewolf, so badly.

But what had Luckett said earlier? That he couldn't control it fully, only “tame” it? And as to how he would be able to transform of his own free will – focus on the werewolf, and become one with it?

That confused him a little, but he supposed he meant that he had to understand the werewolf within. So he closed his eyes, and breathed.

In his mind's eye, he could picture a wolf standing in front of him, with brown hair like his and glowing eyes. It growled at him as he stood there, trying to escape from the rope tying it to a stake. Both the stake and the rope looked worn, as if the wolf had escaped before.

“...Hello,” Jasper said timidly, not knowing what else to say to the wolf. But it only sniffed the air. It then sneered at him, pacing about the ground. That put Jasper off, but he took a step forward. When the wolf didn't react, he took two more steps forward.

Then he stopped, and brought his hands up to chest level. “Listen, I just want to ask you...” he said. “What do you want from me?”

“You have so much potential, Kaylock,” the wolf said, pausing. Yet it still smiled nastily at him. “Why don't you unlock it?”

“Potential?” Jasper asked. “What do you mean?”

The wolf pointed its nose at the stake holding it down. “Free me and find out.”

Jasper felt compelled to do as the wolf asked, but as he crouched down, he caught himself.

“I can't,” he said. “Who knows what you'll do if I let you go?”

“Kaylock,” the wolf growled, “you cannot know what you desire to know unless you set me free!”

“I can't let you go!” Jasper insisted, standing up – but then he questioned his decision as the wolf began to bare its teeth at him.

“You can't keep me here much longer, Kaylock!” the wolf said. “Sooner or later, I will escape! You'll never see it coming!”

“No!”

The wolf leaped, and Jasper closed his eyes – but then he opened his eyes a second later, and he was back in the training room, alone.

Well, mostly alone – he didn't realize someone was in the doorway until she came forward.

“Jasper?” she asked, and he turned to see that it was Rachel. She was holding a tray of tea and a plate full of cookies. “Are you alright? You're standing all alone here.”

“I'm fine,” Jasper said, almost automatically. He rubbed his arm; he had better not tell her what had just transpired in his mind. She had already put up with him going beserk; she didn't need to hear about his attempts to control it. So his eyes moved to the tray instead. “Whose food is that?” he asked.

Rachel blushed. “Oh, uh...” She nervously grinned. “It's for you.”

“Really? You made this much for me?” he asked. “Thank you.” He took one, and ate. Rachel smiled when he did so – that seemed to be a good sign.

“I heard about your sort-of training with the Lodgers. What happened?” she asked, putting the tray down on the sole table in the Training Room.

Jasper thought about everything that the Lodgers had told him. He put his hands in his pockets, and then sighed. “I got nervous...they told me a lot of good stuff, but then they started to go on about me learning other kinds of magic, and then I got overwhelmed...”

He trailed off. Should he tell her about the wolf in his mind? Probably not.

“Well, at least the Lodgers want to help you; that's a good start,” Rachel said. “And it's their nature to be overwhelming. They get carried away sometimes.” She chuckled a little. “Most of the time, actually.”  
  
“Oh.” Jasper didn't know if he should be relieved by that. “Do you really think that I could be able to learn other types of magic?”

Rachel twiddled her fingers together awkwardly. “I'm...not that sure? They're magic users, they know more about that than I do. If they think you can do it, then...sure.”

He nodded, looking down at his shoes. He didn't know if he could tell the Lodgers about the wolf in his mind either, now that he thought about it. Would they think him insane? Or was that something normal?

The two of them fell into a silence for a while, to the point that the both of them began to feel uncomfortable. Jasper glanced back up at Rachel, clutching at his sleeve.

“How long did it take you to perfect your transformations?” he asked.

“Me?” Rachel asked. “Well, I couldn't control it for years, until I got my training under Hyde. Why do you ask?”

Jasper looked away. “Nothing...”

“Does it have to do with your own transformations?”

He looked her in the eye, and Rachel covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she said.

“No, it's fine,” Jasper told her. “I mean...how do I even begin? I might lose control and attack everyone.”

She looked at him gently, before sighing. “That was one of my first fears too, when I first learned that I was a weapon. And no one bothered to help me control it, they just wanted me to get rid of it. Stop being what I was.” Her eyes darted across the room. “All that changed when I met Dr. Jekyll...but I needn't go into details. It's you we're focusing on.”

“Right.”

The two of them then paused again.

Jasper looked down at his feet. He couldn't help but feel that the wolf inside him was a destructive tendency, that he might not be able to control it...like his own Sway of Magic...

“ _It's not so much controlling it as it is channeling it into different pathways.”_

Jasper could divert his magic into other pathways, couldn't he? The Lodgers had said it themselves. And besides, it wasn't like he had to keep the destruction of the wolf a part of him. He could starve it of the energy and attention that it so craved.

“Rachel, could you, uh, tell the Lodgers that...I want to learn other magic?”

 


	12. A Daunting Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin asks Archer to accompany him on a dangerous mission, but that's not the only thing that Archer finds troubling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Not in time for Christmas, I'll give it that, but at least there's a new chapter!
> 
> Also, trigger warning for abuse. Just thought y'all should know.

“Safe to say, Bird, your plants are doing fine.”

“That's good to know,” Bird said, chuckling as Archer continued tinkering with the clockwork tree. “Honestly, Archer, I don't know how my exotic plants would do without you and your machines.”

“Well, truth be told, I was surprised to know there were limits to your magic when it came to keeping them alive,” Archer said. “Lucky for you, then, that I taught myself all about plants and machines.”

“And to think you're also a weapon that can resonate even with magic users.” Bird bent down to look at the plants. “ 'Yer a blessing!”

“Stop,” Archer said cheerfully. He picked up a wrench to fix a loose bolt in the clockwork tree. “You lot say that all the time about me.”

Bird examined a petal on a red flower. “That's only because it's true.” He got up just as someone knocked on the door. “I'll get it,” he said. Bird then walked over to the door, and opened it to see Griffin.

“Griffin! What a surprise!” Bird said, and Archer looked up. “To what d'we owe the pleasure?”

“Bird, could I talk with Archer? Alone?” Griffin said in a no-nonsense tone. He then looked to Archer, and their eyes met – but only for a second before Archer looked away.

Shit, he still wasn't up to facing Griffin, even after two days. He still hadn't decided whether he wanted to be the man's partner or not. Sure, Griffin was a decent fighter, so he wouldn't have to worry about him when they were in combat. And Griffin was one of his friends – in fact, he was the only one who had expressed a desire to be his permanent meister. Not even Atalanta had told him such a thing, and he had known her longer than he had known Griffin. The decision should have been easy, then, right?

But...he couldn't bring himself to put himself fully in Griffin's hands. And why the hell was that? Was it because of Griffin's ill temper and odd habits? No – Archer wanted to help Griffin with those issues, and they haven't really gotten in the way of their friendship. He just...had a bad feeling about being _anyone's_ partner, it seemed.

But now, it looked as if Griffin was forcing him to make a decision.

“Archer?” Bird asked, and Archer sighed, before looking over at them. “Yes, yes, I'm coming.” He put down his tools, and then walked over to the doorway, where Griffin was waiting, and Bird stepped aside to leave the two of them alone.

Archer cleared his throat, before finally looking the other man in the eye. “Listen, Griffin, I'm really sorry about leaving you without an answer to your question,” he began. “But you want an answer, so I'm telling you that I–”

“It's not about that,” Griffin interrupted. “Ito wants me to brew her a potion to replace one that I took from her, and we're out of a certain ingredient. Problem is, the place where it grows is dangerous. So...” He let the predicament speak for itself.

“...Why would Ito tell you to do such a thing?” Archer asked.

Griffin put his hands in his pockets. “I know. Ito insists that it's fair, since I steal from her all the time, and she knows that I'm going to ask you for help anyway.”

Archer blinked, and then smiled. This ought to distract them both from the elephant in the room. Well, either that or exacerbate the situation, but fights always took Archer's mind off things.

“Sounds a lot more fun than waiting for my decision.” Archer said.

 

* * *

 

Soon, Archer found himself in weapon form, flying out of London alongside Griffin. Griffin himself was seated on a sturdy broom, keeping a Archer in a handmade holster and his eyes on the skyline.

“I can't believe Tweedy actually let you borrow his broom,” Archer said.

“Yeah, borrow...” Griffin said.

“Griffin, did you steal Tweedy's broom?”

“As long as Tweedy doesn't find out and I don't break it, it's fine.” Griffin shrugged. “Besides, flying is the fastest way to get there.”

Archer huffed. “Well, you better know what you're doing,” he told him. “This is the last time you're stealing someone's broom, though.”

Griffin pouted. “Fine.”

They then flew in silence for a little while after they exited London and flew over a few small towns. Archer watched the people down on the ground, going about their business. Some spotted Griffin in the sky, but no one seemed to be taking any action against him.

“So, where is this ingredient that we have to get?” Archer asked as they flew swiftly over a few trees.

“Near this next town,” Griffin replied. “The ingredient grows only in the trees next to it. But the witches' markets and the Blackfog Bazaar used to have a fresh supply of it all the time.”

Archer felt uneasy. “So why don't they have one now?”

They flew over the town as he asked that, and Griffin let the town's silence speak for itself. Archer watched the town carefully, but no one seemed to be moving about, no one seemed to be talking or playing. All the doors and windows of the houses were shut. Not a soul was in sight.

“The townspeople evacuated recently, on the orders of the DWMA,” Griffin explained. “Not everyone made it out.”

“What...what happened?” Archer looked up at Griffin.

“It was a tough kishin egg,” he finally revealed. “The DWMA's probably sending students or teachers to fight it off, but it's not going down. And it's probably looking to target the next towns.”

Archer paused as he realized what this entailed. “Wait,” he then said, “you're going to take on the kishin egg yourself?”

“No, Archer, I'm only going to gather as much as I need,” Griffin said. “I'm just bringing you along in case so I won't die.”

“Of course,” Archer said, trying to laugh.

Griffin slowly landed, until he came to a complete stop over the ground. He stepped off the broom, and then released Archer just as he began to transform back into a human.

“The trees are just up ahead,” Griffin said. “Stay close.”

“Sure,” Archer said, stretching. Then he looked at Griffin. “So where is 'up ahead'?”

“In that grove of apple trees.” Griffin pointed at a couple of trees beyond the town. “If I remember Ito's instructions clearly, there are about sixty trees of what we're looking for among two hundred apple trees.”

“Wow,” Archer said, walking after Griffin, who had begun to move. “So what are we looking for?”

“It's called the Fruit of Woe,” Griffin told him. “It can be used for many potions, but when taken raw it brings out a man's most maddening sorrows. They look like apples, but the leaves have dark veins on them.”

The two of them then walked into the grove of trees, with Griffin carefully examining the leaves on the various branches on his side. Archer looked around, trying to keep his mind off the silence that had now befallen them. He looked up at one tree on his side, and saw a plump red apple hanging on its lowermost branch.

Well, no one would probably mind if he took one, right?

So, as Griffin began to look over a small paper map, Archer jumped up and plucked the apple off the branch. He looked down at it, and cleaned the apple on his coat. Then he was about to take a bite out of it, when he noticed some leaves that had fallen off when he had taken the fruit.

The leaves had dark veins on them.

Archer held up the fruit. “Uh, Griffin, I think I found your ingredient,” he said, and Griffin turned around to face him.

“Oh! Good,” Griffin said.” He took off the bag he had on his shoulder, and opened it. Archer then threw the fruit inside. Griffin caught it, and looked up at Archer once it was in. “Don't throw it!” he chided. “You could drop it and maybe damage it!”

“Hey, I'm a good shot,” Archer said, “what with being a gun and everything. Have a little faith in me!” He looked up at the tree, and spotted another fruit, hanging higher this time.

Griffin looked up as well. “...Don't you dare.”

“I do dare.” Archer transformed his arm into a cannon, and aimed it at the branch. “How many do we need?”

“Food...”

Archer and Griffin froze. They looked in front of them, and saw a creature standing there among the trees, its face only showing a wide grin. What should have been hands were instead large spikes, and its feet were like an eagle's talons. Even though it had no eyes, Archer could tell it was looking at them.

“...Oh, bugger,” Griffin cursed.

“Delicious morsels,” the kishin egg said, as it was getting closer. “A strong soul...and a weak one! A human, and a witch!”

Archer readied himself, pointing his cannon arm at the kishin egg. “Reckon this is the kishin egg you were going on about?”

“Yes,” Griffin said. “Soul Protect, release.”

A burst of energy rushed out from him, and Archer knew that the gloves were off.

“Are you ready?” Archer asked, and Griffin smirked. “That's why I brought you, isn't it?”

“Delicious morsels, delicious souls!” the kishin egg shouted, before jumping at them. Archer and Griffin dodged, and the kishin egg hit the tree. Several fruits fell onto it, and then it got up, but its face was still set in a large smile. It crushed a few fruits under its spikes, and turned to Archer. “A good, tasty soul!”

The kishin egg leaped at him, and Archer shot it with his cannon arm. The kishin egg was blown back, but it only landed a few feet away from him. Archer checked the gears on the cannon, and huffed.

“Ugh, I keep forgetting I'm on a low setting,” he said. “Higher ought to do it.” The gears on the cannon clicked and turned, just as the kishin egg charged once again. Archer braced himself, but then something blasted the kishin egg from behind.

“You turn your attention to me!” Griffin shouted, lowering his hand from the shooting position it was in. The kishin egg indeed turned towards him, and then crawled at him before charging. Griffin then waited until it was only three paces in front of him, and then turned invisible.

Stunned, the kishin egg stopped in its tracks. An unseen force then hit it upon the head, and then struck its jaw. “Archer, now!” Griffin's voice said, and Archer aimed his cannon arm at the kishin egg. “Right!” He then fired at the kishin egg, and sent it back further than before.

It flew through the air and landed on all fours, skidding across the ground, before turning to face Archer once more. Against his better judgment, Archer ran forward as the kishin egg did the same, before striking it in the stomach with his cannon arm.

Out of the corner of his eye, Archer could see Griffin turn visible again, and shout, “Archer, look out!”

At this, Archer looked up and saw a spike coming at him. He dodged again, but only narrowly – the tip of the spike caught on his left sleeve and tore through his skin.

Archer stumbled back, trying to catch his breath. Suddenly he didn't feel so good. He turned his other arm back into flesh, and used his now human hand to cradle his bleeding arm. He breathed heavily, in and out, but that didn't stop his vision from clouding.

It was that fruit's juice all over over the spikes...what did Griffin say the fruit did again?

“Archer!” Griffin's voice was there, but it sounded far away. “Archer, it's coming!”

 

* * *

 

 

Suddenly, Archer was thirteen years old again.

He was thirteen, and he was in weapon form, in the hand of his older sister. In her other hand, she held a wallet, taken from the pocket of a man who was long gone, having run down the alley that Archer and his sister had come from. A valise, prim and proper, also one of the robbed man's belongings, was sitting beside his sister's feet.

Their mother looked upon them now, cold and analyzing. Her arms were crossed.

“Christopher, Philomena,” she said. In a flash, Archer jumped out of his sister's hand and transformed back into his human form. He stood in front of her as his sister did, except he had opted to look away from her instead of look her in the eye.

“What do you have for us?” she asked, and Philomena held up the wallet.

“Stole this,” she said. “And th'bag.”

Their mother nodded, and then looked straight at Archer. “Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Open it.”

He did as he was told, and walked over to the valise to unclasp the buckles on it. He could feel his mother and sister watching intently, already anticipating the presence of anything that they could sell. Swallowing, he opened it up...

...and what they found was nothing but papers and books.

Their mother stared down at the contents, while Philomena picked up one of the books. “What?” she asked in disbelief. Archer himself took the papers out of the valise, and leafed through them.

He was pretty sure that they couldn't sell these books or these papers – what the hell was botany, anyway; and these papers wouldn't sell unless the man they robbed happened to be either a famous researcher or a government official. And even if he were, who would buy such things from poor people like them?

“What is all this bleedin' junk?” their mother asked, in that tone that could only mean one thing. “You think we can sell this?”

“Mother,” Archer said, “we didn't know–”

“It was Christopher,” Philomena told their mother. “He didn't want us to rob more than one person today.”

“Christopher.”

Venom had filled his mother's voice. He froze, not daring to look up.

“This has to be all your fault always, doesn't it?” she said, raising her voice. “I know you have problems with robbing people, but the one time you choose to do so, you steal from a man who has nothing for us to sell?”

“I didn't know.” Archer bowed his head lower. “I'm sorry, I really thought we could have something and this would be over with.”

“Of course you don't know.” His mother crossed her arms just as he peeked up. “You know nothing. You're a stupid, ignorant weapon who can't do anything right. You think we can't steal from people, because it's wrong? Who gives a damn about what's right and what's wrong when you're desperate?”

He wrung his hands together. “I'm sorry, Mother.”

“Don't call me Mother.” She turned away from him, and went into their house. “What I just said – it's something a weak person like you wouldn't understand. You're not getting any supper tonight.”

Suddenly, he was himself again, grown up and reeling from the pain of that reopened wound. More memories flashed through his mind, more hurtful words rang through his ears, and he closed his eyes, trying to shut out his tears. His bleeding arm continued to ache, and he screamed.

The tears flowed out even stronger this time, as the memories continued to come – and yet the first memory continued to hammer in his eardrums.

Even if his mother hadn't been correct about the right and wrong, she had been right about him being weak.

Maybe that was why no one wanted to be his partner. Everyone told him that he was a strong weapon, that he was a good weapon, but he was never a good friend. He was smart when it came to plants and machinery, but he was never the best at being a functioning human being. He was never the best at trusting anyone like a functioning human being.

But he wasn't human – he was only a weapon with an education. And even if Griffin said he wanted to be his partner, maybe he was only seeing the weapon side of him. Griffin would get tired of who he was anyways, like he tired of everyone else in the Society. Like everyone else tired of Archer when they were done using him.

He ought not to get his hopes up.

And all the memories rushing through his mind proved it – Archer wasn't the kind of weapon that deserved a meister.

“Archer! Archer!”

He was being shaken away from the pain, and then the haze faded from his vision. He groaned, and blinked a couple of times to refocus his wet eyes.

“Archer!” Griffin exclaimed, patting his face. “What happened?”

“Ugh, the juice...” Archer said, sniffling, before realizing that he was on the ground. “I think the juice of the fruit got into m'system...”

“Thought so,” Griffin said. “You fell to the ground and the kishin egg was about to get you.”

Archer's eyes widened, and he shot out from underneath Griffin. “What – what happened to it?” he asked.

Griffin pointed over his shoulder, and Archer looked to see the kishin egg standing behind them. It was on all fours, yet it seemed to be struggling against something holding it down to the ground. “Sticky Enchantment,” Griffin explained.

Archer then frowned. “Why didn't you use that sooner?”

Griffin crossed his arms. “Don't look at me like I forgot it!” A pause. “Well, maybe I did, but I can only cast it on beings that are close to me, and I needed that thing to stay still on all fours,” Griffin said, “because _that_ might happen.” He pointed at Archer's wound.

Archer watched as he then took out a potion, and poured it over Archer's wound. It burned a little, causing Archer to hiss in pain. Griffin said nothing, on the other hand; he only took another potion out and poured it as well over the wound. Slowly, he could feel his wound closing, and soon it was as if it had never been there, if one didn't notice the bloody scratch on his coat sleeve.

“What's that one?” Archer asked.

Griffin replied, “Flesh Weaver. Don't tell Ito I have it.”

Archer nodded, wondering for a second why he shouldn't tell their colleague, before looking over his arm. Good as new. Then he looked up at Griffin – and realized what position they were in. His cheeks were tinged with red, and he got up, taking his legs out from underneath Griffin.

“Did you, ahem, get enough fruits?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Griffin got up, looking around. “Oh, bleeding – why'd I forget all about that?!”

He moved to get the bag that had been on the ground, with its solitary fruit inside it. Archer stared at him, and then looked down again at his arm.

Griffin hadn't needed to stay beside him, he hadn't needed to take the time to clean and heal what was obviously a flesh wound. He could have cast the Sticky Enchantment and left Archer crying on the ground, while he took as many fruits as he pleased. But he stayed beside him.

And Griffin was always asking Archer what he saw in him.

A good and caring person was what he saw.

 

* * *

 

After a while, Griffin and Archer had finally gathered as many fruits as their bag could carry, and they were walking out of the grove of trees. Behind them, the kishin egg was still struggling to escape the spell holding it down.

“How long is that enchantment going to hold?” Archer asked, and Griffin shrugged. “Long enough for the DWMA to figure out how to kill that thing.” Archer nodded, and then looked up at the setting sun, who was beginning to fall asleep.

Griffin exhaled, and then looked over to Archer. He wondered if Archer was still thinking about his question, about whether he would want him as his meister or not. After all that had happened today, he wouldn't put it past Archer to forget. And yet, it was obvious that the question had had a profound effect on the other man.

Why, the other night, had Archer thought no one wanted to be his meister? Archer was a good man. He had a lot of prospects – at least that was what Griffin thought – and many people liked partnering with him. Everyone always flattered him, and their flattery was well-deserved. So why was Archer so surprised that he wanted to be his partner?

He looked down, wondering what to say. Earlier, it seemed as if Archer had already made his decision, and he wanted to know what it was. But, truth be told, he didn't want to make it seem like Archer had to decide right away. He didn't want the other man to do anything rash.

Archer didn't need to be his weapon partner, and that was fine.

He still wished he could be Archer's meister, though, badly.

What the hell were these conflicting feelings?

“Griffin.”

He stopped as Archer did, and then looked back at him. “Huh? What is it?”

“It's about what I was about to say earlier, before we left,” Archer told him. “About my answer to your question.”

“Oh, that,” Griffin said. “Well, you were pretty surprised to hear me ask you that question. It's to be expected you're still thinking about what decision to make."

“But I have made a decision. Just today, anyway.”

Griffin turned fully towards him, and Archer extended a hand, smiling.

“I would like to be your partner too.”

Griffin stared at the hand for two seconds. He was taken with an overwhelming urge to jump for joy, cheer, maybe even hug Archer. But he settled on taking Archer's hand and squeezing it, allowing himself a small smile.

“What-what finally convinced you?” Griffin asked.

Archer shrugged. “Well, I just thought we make a fairly good team,” he said. “I mean, we did fight off a kishin agg. And you helped me.”

Griffin blinked, and then looked away, his face as red as the sunset. “Yeah, well, don't expect it to happen all the time. There's more to life than battling kishin eggs to get potion ingredients.”

“I figured as much,” Archer said. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What's that?” Griffin asked.

“Promise me that we'll be on each other's side no matter what.”

Griffin was silent for a moment, before nodding. “Of course.”

It was an easy promise to make, after all.

 


	13. The First Wave Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lanyon comes to the Society at a late hour, but instead of finding Jekyll, he finds danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conflict is just beginning to heat up, everyone!
> 
> It's like I'm just copying the comic and putting all the scenes and chapters out of order, heh.

Lanyon stepped through the large doors of the Society. It was nighttime, and so it was lights out for the whole building. The candles surrounding the runes in the center were still lit, though, just as they had always been. He thought it a little unsettling, and stared at the circle for a few seconds, before moving further into the building.

Despite the lights being out, there was still a good number of the Lodgers awake. One Lodger whom he recognized as the phoenix sorcerer Luckett was speaking with a Lodger he didn't recognize. It was probably the newest Lodger that Jekyll had told him about – Kaylock, was it? Jasper Kaylock, yes. Some other Lodgers were gathered around the chameleon sorcerer Griffin (unmistakable by his white hair) and the plant sorcerer's assistant. (What was that one's name again? Archer?)

Glancing over them, Lanyon decided to walk over to Luckett and Jasper. They seemed like they weren't going to be too much trouble, and the other Lodgers seemed focused on interviewing Griffin and Archer. He walked over to the two he had chosen, and as he got closer he could hear their conversation.

“You're saying you're actually _a century_ old?” Jasper asked, awed.

Luckett nodded. “Witches and sorcerers can live ridiculously long lives. Actually, if you think about it, I'm centuries old, but that's due to me living many past lives. As for this current life, I've been this way for about a hundred years now. When I die, my soul will remain and I'll begin another life – like an actual phoenix.”

“That's amazing,” Jasper said. “So you retain some of your memories, like how to do spatial magic?”

“Yes,” Luckett replied. I'm just glad you're eager to learn from me and Maijabi. You're very good for a beginner, actually.”

“I am?” Jasper said. “Thank you, uh...I don't know what to say.”

Lanyon stopped in front of them. So Jasper was learning spatial magic from the Lodgers? That was odd to him, but no more so than Luckett mentioning having past lives. He cleared his throat, and Luckett and Jasper looked up at him.

“Excuse me,” Lanyon said, “but might you know if Jekyll is in right now?”

“I think he's still in his office? He hasn't left,” Luckett said. “Perhaps he is quite busy.”

“Well, he won't be too busy to see me about the Exhibition, I hope,” Lanyon said. He eyed Jasper, a little cautiously. Jasper seemed to know what he was being cautious about, because he looked down.

The young werewolf reminded Lanyon of another, one that he and Jekyll had met a long time ago. But he knew Jasper wasn't the same as that werewolf, so he let the thought go. “Thank you for your time,” he said, before turning around and walking towards the stairs. He noticed the door under the stairs was ajar, and that there were eyes peeking out at him from behind said door. He stared at it, and the eyes vanished.

Lanyon blinked, and then looked away. That must have been Mosley. Then he stopped, and turned to the group of Lodgers that were gathered around Griffin and Archer. Mosley was among them, instead of inside his basement room.

Who had been staring at him, then? One of the Lodgers?

No – they didn't tend to watch him like that.

Lanyon stepped towards the door, and looked inside the gap. There was a small light at the bottom, as if only a single candle had been lit in the basement. It was too quiet.

He closed his eyes, and then focused on the souls within.

There were two souls inside the basement. One was a human soul, and the other...well, he didn't know what to call it. It felt like a weapon soul, but not quite like any other weapon soul...

“Sir?” a small voice asked, and Lanyon looked up to see Jasper. Jasper hesitated when he looked at him, but eventually managed to ask, “What are you doing?”

“There are two people down there,” Lanyon said. “Do you know who they are?”

“How – two?” Jasper questioned. The other Lodgers began to look Lanyon's way, and then they gathered around him.

“What're you talking about? There's no one down there,” Mosley said.

“I can sense souls inside the basement, don't lie to me,” Lanyon said. “Is there something you haven't told me? Who's down there?”

Before anyone could lie or confess, there was a strange noise at the closed doors of the atrium. Lanyon looked up, and narrowed his eyes.

He could see a single soul outside the door – and at the same time he recognized the strange sound as a burning fuse.

“Oh, no,” Lanyon said, and barely got to warn anyone before the doors exploded.

When the smoke cleared, Lanyon lowered his arms from his face, and looked up at what the Lodgers were looking at.

The doors were broken down, and standing in the middle of the wreckage was a man, with a rifle on his back and a flamethrower in his hands. His hair was untamed, and his beard was long and ragged. On either side of him were two large animal-like golems. He wore no smile, but he had a wild glint in his eyes, almost as if he was afflicted by the madness that Lanyon had been taught about in the Academy.

“So this is the Society...” the man said. “I am Dr. Moreau! Where is the man that I seek!”

“Dr. Moreau?” Jasper asked, as if a cold hand had wrapped itself around his throat. “Here?”

“Tell me,” Moreau said, igniting his flamethrower and waving it around. “Where is Victor Frankenstein?”

Several of the Lodgers gasped, and Lanyon stepped forward. “Victor Frankenstein? There must be some mistake. The man is dead!"

“Frankenstein is alive, and here!” Moreau insisted. “And I will find him, or burn down this whole building trying!”

“Not on our watch!” Another Lodger stepped forward, the one whom Lanyon recognized as Lavender. “If you're going to try and burn this place down, then what you need is some water!” She held up a hand, and shot out water from it. Moreau was doused, and sent back a few feet.

In this moment, Lanyon looked up at Jekyll's office. “Jekyll! We could use your help right now!”

Moreau got back up, growling, and Jekyll still wasn't coming out.

“Jekyll!” Lanyon called once more, in vain. In front of them, Moreau sent a jet of fire towards them, but Lavender blocked it by creating a wall of water.

“How the hell can Jekyll not be hearing this?!” Griffin asked. Lanyon was prepared to go up and bang on the door of the office, but then he saw Jasper move towards the door to the basement.

Of course. Why else would Moreau be here?

Lanyon went after Jasper into the basement. However, he did not expect to see a golem there beside an old woman, or for Jasper to come straight to the latter.

“Miss Clerval,” Jasper said. “Please don't tell me you have a connection to Victor Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein?” the woman asked. “What's going on?”

“There's a bloody insane man out there threatening to kill us because he thinks Frankenstein is here!” Griffin's voice yelled from the top of the stairs. “Maybe it's because he heard an enchanter was here?”

Lanyon looked back at the woman, and focused on her soul. It was, no doubt, the same one he had felt before. But then he felt the odd weapon soul yet again, and looked to the golem.

The soul was _within_ the golem.

Lanyon's brow creased. “Either I'm seeing things, or there's a soul inside that golem, Miss,” he said.

The old woman turned to him. “I'm sorry, who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Dr. Robert Lanyon, co-founder of this Society and meister of Dr. Henry Jekyll,” he told her. “And don't try to lie to me about that golem, because I have Soul Perception, and I can tell, that is a weapon soul inside of it. So start talking.”

The woman seemed a little dumbstruck, and only snapped out of her trance when something crashed outside. Lanyon could hear someone calling out Lavender's name – in distress – and he knew they had to act fast.

Behind the woman, the golem started to move of its own accord, and she looked up at it. “We've been discovered,” it said simply.

Hearing this, the woman huffed, and then reached up, before pulling her hair out of the bun it had been in, letting it hang loose over her shoulders. “To be honest, I did not expect a meister to be the co-founder of an organization for vitches,” she said, dropping the English accent and putting on a Swiss one. “And it's _Victoria_ Frankenstein to you.”

“Wait, so you aren't a man?” Griffin asked, still standing at the top of the stairs.

Lanyon gave him an unimpressed look, then turned back to Frankenstein. “What does Dr. Moreau want with you?” he asked.

“This Moreau has tried to recreate my veapon-making formula for his own gain, vith little success,” Frankenstein explained. “Once he found out I vas alive, he began hunting me down to get my formula and my Creature. But I've always evaded him until now.” She flicked a stray hair out of her face. “Now it looks like I have to fight him off.” She held a hand out. “Let's go.”

“Uh, you can't do that,” Griffin said, and she frowned. “Vot? Does it bother you?” she asked.

“No, we have an enchantment on this building that prevents weapons from transforming or staying in weapon form within,” Griffin told Frankenstein. “Because us magic users do not want demon weapons becoming a liability to us.”

Frankenstein put her hands on her hips. “So vhat do you suggest ve do to defend ourselves?”

Something exploded outside, and Lanyon set his mind to working. The Lodgers could take care of Moreau and his golems, but it was clear the man was prepared for even a witch's attack out there. And if he finished off enough Lodgers, how would they stop him?

“Well, we could turn you over to him,” Lanyon said.

“Vhat?!” Frankenstein asked.

“I mean, you're a danger to us this way, and I imagine the Lodgers won't be all that fond of the idea of you staying here after hearing all those tales about you.” Lanyon crossed his arms. “Of course, once the rest of the Lodgers find out who you really are.”

“Excuse me, but Dr. Jekyll has let me stay here,” Frankenstein said.

“Back when no one knew you were an outlaw!” Lanyon shot back. “And – Jekyll knew the Lodgers were hiding you here, and he didn't tell me?”

The smell of fire wafted in through the door, and Griffin cursed. “We don't have time for this! Figure something out!” he exclaimed.

Amid this chaos, Lanyon didn't think anyone else had any other plan – until Jasper raised his hand. “A weapon like Mr. Archer or Dr. Jekyll could attack Moreau's golems from outside the building and stop them from helping him,” he said. “But we need a way to lure them out, and a powerful attack. That way, we can separate Moreau from his golems, destroy them, and stop him without having to give Miss Cler – er, Miss Frankenstein to him.”

Frankenstein and Lanyon stared at Jasper for a while, before the former grinned. “A great idea, Kaylock!” she said. “But vhat vill get the attention of Moreau's golems?”

“I think I have an idea,” the Creature spoke, and Frankenstein looked up at him.

“...Oh,” she said.

 

* * *

 

The moment Griffin saw the Creature ascending the steps to the basement, he knew the plan was crazy. He and the Creature went through the door, and saw the other Lodgers now fighting the golems in the many ways that they could. Archer and Bird were at the aid of the injured Lodgers, with Bird using his healing magic to heal them. However, the golems were armed with spikes, and were faster than ordinary golems; and one of them was enchanted to fly. Not to mention that Moreau himself was setting fires and shooting at the Lodgers left and right.

Griffin found Archer, and called out his name. Just as Archer looked up, so did Moreau, and the Creature stood taller. Moreau pointed his flamethrower at the Creature. “I knew you were hiding it here!” he said.

“Follow us!” Griffin told Archer, and Archer wasted no time in following after him and the Creature as they began to run. Moreau moved to follow them as well; however, a whistle pierced the air, and Moreau (as well as a few others) looked up at the stairs to see Lanyon, Frankenstein, and Jasper there.

“Moreau!” Frankenstein called. “If you vant my sorry hide, then come get it!”

With that, the three of them ran up the stairs, and Moreau grunted, before telling his golems, “Bring me the Creature!” Then he went to follow Frankenstein.

The bird golem swooped first after the Creature, but the Creature reached the doorway in the nick of time. Archer ducked under the bird golem, and then when he was out, jumped and transformed into his weapon form. Griffin reached up, and caught Archer.

“Mind explaining the situation to me?” Archer asked, and Griffin adjusted his hold on the gun. “I'll tell you when it's all over. Highest setting!”

The gears on the gun began to turn, and Griffin adjusted his footing. The bird golem went straight for the Creature, and so Griffin had a good aim, before the gears clicked in place, and he fired.

The resulting force was powerful enough to knock Griffin off his feet, and the shot hit the golem dead on, exploding in mid-air. Griffin caught his breath, wiping the sweat from his face with a hand–

–but the smoke was blown back by a wing, and the bird golem revealed itself to still be intact, albeit with a sizeable dent in its belly and fragments of it falling out.

“Your highest setting wasn't enough...?” Griffin asked.

“It's made of thick clay; if it were flesh, I could have caused more damage,” Archer told him.

The bird golem shot forward once more, and Griffin stood up, but a large scythe blade came out and pierced the golem in the dent, causing it to break and fall apart. Griffin looked up at the Creature, just as the blade vanished from his back.

“So this is Frankenstein's golem,” Griffin thought aloud.

“Franken – what?” Archer sounded confused.

The other golems came to the doorway, and the Creature ran forward to met them. “You can get a more powerful blast than that attempt,” the Creature said, before producing another blade from his arm. Soon the other Lodgers came out as well, helping to fight off the golems.

A more powerful blast?

Then Griffin realized what it meant.

“Let's use Soul Resonance,” Griffin said.

“W-what?” Archer asked.

“As of now, it's the only attack we can make that could possibly destroy one of these golems in one go,” Griffin told him, adjusting his footing. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I can't...I can't do that,” Archer said. “I just can't.”

A lion golem came towards them, and opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Griffin took a step back, and then looked down at the gun. “Do you want to make it out of here alive or not?” he asked. “I'm sure nothing worse could happen. We have to do it!”

Archer hesitated. “Well...fine.”

The lion golem began to charge, and Archer and Griffin yelled in unison.

“Soul Resonance!”

And just like that, it felt as if their souls were fusing.

Griffin felt an incredible burst of energy coursing through his veins, and yet at the same time he could feel his power going into the gun into his hand. He took a deep breath–

–and suddenly it was as if he was being electrocuted.

“I cant, I can't, don't make me do it!” Archer was screaming. “Stop!”

“Archer,” Griffin managed to say, “what–!”

The energy flow stopped abruptly, and Griffin was thrown down to the ground once more. The lion golem pounced, and was about to bite down, but Griffin managed to dodge it as it landed on the ground. “Sticky Enchantment!” he cried out, and the golem tried to move, but it could not. That gave Griffin enough time to crawl out, away from danger, while the other Lodgers came onto the scene and finished the golem off.

Griffin panted, and looked down at the gun in his hand.

“...I'm sorry,” Archer said.

 

* * *

 

While all this was happening, Frankenstein, Jasper, and Lanyon ran up to the doors of Jekyll's office, and Lanyon pounded on the door. “Henry! You've got to get out here now!” Lanyon yelled. “Henry!”

Moreau's footsteps came closer on the stairs, and Lanyon pounded even harder. Frankenstein then pushed Lanyon aside, and rammed the door with her shoulder so that it opened. Lanyon looked at her. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I can do vhatever I vant in a crisis,” she returned.

“Dr. Jekyll?” Jasper asked, and both Lanyon and Frankenstein turned towards the office. No one was inside.

“Henry? This is no time to be hiding!” Lanyon went into the office, but no one was there. He heard a gun click behind him, and he turned around to see Moreau coming to the top of the stairs and aiming his rifle at Frankenstein.

“I see disguising yourself as a woman hasn't helped you hide from me,” Moreau said. “Now come with me and tell your Creature to surrender.”

“I know vhat you're planning to do vith my formula,” Frankenstein said. “You von't have it!”

Moreau snarled and turned the rifle towards Jasper. “Will you give me the formula now?” he asked. Jasper was frozen in place, and Frankenstein looked at him, concerned.

Lanyon clenched his hands into fists. Frankenstein and Jasper were two odd people whom Jekyll had taken in without informing him, but he was not going to let a single person get seriously hurt, or worse.

He ran forward, and just as Moreau noticed him, he jumped up, raising his leg, and kicked the man away. Moreau was sent back, and nearly fell down the stairs before he caught himself. Lanyon landed on his feet, and then looked at Jasper.

“How far along are you in your magic?” he asked.

“I've only just begun teleporting,” Jasper said. “But if you mean transformation, I'm no good with that, sir!”

Lanyon cursed under his breath, and held up his fists. “I had hoped Jekyll and I could put some sense into this man, but that doesn't seem to be the case,” he said. “Mr. Kaylock, you have to teleport him as far away as you can after I wear him out. Miss Frankenstein, do you have any weapons?”

“None except the Creature,” Frankenstein said, while Moreau ignited his flamethrower to use in place of his rifle.

“Can you fight?”

“A little.”

Moreau came at Lanyon with his flamethrower, and Lanyon dodged. “That will do!” he said, as he ducked to avoid getting singed. “Cover Mr. Kaylock!”

Lanyon then raised his leg to kick Moreau on the arm. Moreau was struck on the arm, but in spite of this moved to strike Lanyon with his weapon. Lanyon dodged, and that gave Moreau an opening to try and shoot Jasper. But Frankenstein ran forward, and grabbed the flamethrower, struggling with it, and she ducked as Moreau swung it forcefully towards her. He tried to swing it back towards Jasper, but Frankenstein shot up and pushed Jasper down from the incoming blast of fire.

Using this distraction, Lanyon lifted a fist and struck Moreau from below. The uppercut caused Moreau to stumble back once more, and he tried not to lose his balance over the stairs. Lanyon readied himself, and then jumped to kick Moreau over the stairs, screaming as he did so.

Moreau and Lanyon were both sent flying over the stairs, and the former landed roughly on the floor, while the latter rolled on the floor and ended up on his feet. Lanyon stood up, fighting to catch his breath, and that was when Moreau got up and grabbed him from behind, before throwing him around and onto the stairs stomach first.

Lanyon crashed, and gasped in pain. Moreau shut off his flamethrower before reaching for a dagger in his pocket.

He looked over his shoulder, and cursed again. How many weapons did this man have? He got to his knees painfully, and noticed that Moreau was staggering towards him – it was clear the fall had taken a toll on him. Lanyon looked to the top of the stairs, and yelled, “Mr. Kaylock, now!”

Jasper began to concentrate, knitting his brows together, and then Moreau vanished from in front of the stairs to Jekyll's office – only to be teleported back to the stairs in front of the Society's main doors.

“...Seriously?” Lanyon asked incredulously.

“I'm sorry; I really thought I could go further than that!” Jasper replied, running downstairs.

Frankenstein followed after Jasper. “You took a beating. Are you alright, Doctor?”

Lanyon said nothing, and only propped himself up before getting to his feet, taking a breath and checking for broken ribs. He wished he had Jekyll, but no matter how he wished it, Jekyll was not here, and he had to help protect this Society without him.

Frankenstein and Jasper reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw Moreau putting on his enchanting gloves, before reassembling his golems in front of the Lodgers outside.

“Doctor, you need to rest,” Jasper said. Lanyon shook his head, and put a hand to his broken ribs. “I can get to Bird,” he said. “I can still fight.”

“Not vithout a veapon, you can't,” Frankenstein said. “I'm going out and assisting my Creature, vhether you like it or not. But if you vant to get your ass kicked vhile trying to vin without magic or a veapon, then so be it.”

She walked towards the doorway, and Jasper and Lanyon watched after her. Outside, Moreau was beginning to shoot at the Lodgers, while the reformed golems impeded the Lodgers' attacks on him.

“I'm really, really sorry,” Jasper apologized, and Lanyon looked to him. “Don't worry, I shouldn't have expected you to be able to teleport him far away, either,” Lanyon said. “Help me get to Bird.”

“Right.” Jasper nodded, and assisted Lanyon in going towards Bird. All the while, Lanyon wondered where Jekyll was.

Why wasn't he here, if no Lodger saw him leave?

 


	14. The First Wave Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyde comes back from a night out to find the Society under attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hyde, what've you been up to?
> 
> This chapter's a lot shorter than most, but if I had added it to the previous chapter, it would have been quite long, so I had to cut them up. You know how it is.

“Two kishin eggs in one night! Who would've thought?” Hyde asked, cackling gleefully. He hopped about from roof to roof, as the clouds floated overhead in the dark sky. Hyde came closer and closer to the Society, licking his lips. “You should make us a feast for two at the kitchen, Rachel!”

“Are you sure, Edward? You're the one who did most of the fighting; I'm just the weapon,” Rachel said, from her sickle form which was in Hyde's hand.

Hyde looked down at the weapon. “Come on, you deserve it! We've gotten to forty kishin egg souls already! And those just in London, too!” He hopped onto a roof, close to the Society building. “Come to think of it–”

He stopped. Hyde crept closer to the edge of the roof, and looked out at the street in front of the Society.

“Edward, what is it?” Rachel asked, before she paused as well.

There was a fight going on in the street, between various animal-like golems and the Lodgers. Hyde caught a man in the midst of the chaos, shooting fire with a flamethrower at the Lodgers. Then he looked over and saw who he recognized as Elizabeth Clerval running out and coming close to her golem, which was joining in the fight as well. She reached out to it, and – much to Hyde's surprise – the golem glowed and transformed into a large scythe, which Elizabeth carried with ease. Then she swung it towards a bear golem, and cut it open with great force.

“Can golems turn into weapons?” Rachel asked, and Hyde grinned.

“Only Frankenstein's golem can do that,” he said. “Perhaps Miss Clerval isn't as dull as I made her out to be!” He steadied his footing, preparing to jump from the roof. “I have to join this fight!”

Before he could, though, Rachel called out, “Wait!”

Hyde stopped. “What?”

“Look over there,” Rachel said, and he looked back at the fight to see someone run out at the man shooting at the Lodgers, and try to kick him down. But the man caught this other man's leg, and used it to throw him down on the ground.

The man on the ground was Lanyon.

“What is that old ratbag doing here?” Hyde asked.

“Someone has to help him before he gets himself killed,” Rachel said. “Where's Henry? Why isn't he here?”

“Lovely,” Hyde deadpanned. “Jekyll doesn't have to be here for every crisis that comes up with this Society. I can take that man and those golems on without a problem!”

Below, Lanyon got up, his head noticeably scraped and bleeding. He moved to punch the man, but the man dodged it, and hit him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. While Lanyon was reeling, Elizabeth ran forward and swung the scythe down on the man, but the man dropped the rifle and blocked the scythe with the flamethrower he had. He then ignited it, and shot a plume of fire at Elizabeth. She dodged, but only by an inch.

“Edward? Edward, what are you thinking?” Rachel asked.

“Transform back, I need to think,” Hyde said. Rachel did as she was asked, and Hyde crouched down.

“I know what you're thinking, Jekyll,” Hyde whispered.

_Lanyon can't know Rachel is your weapon. He'll have her fired. Not to mention there's a high chance he'll call the police once he recognizes you._

“Not that,” Hyde said. “You want to save Lanyon and be a good weapon by protecting him. Well, let him protect himself! He's doing a good job of it so far!”

_But for how much longer?_ Jekyll asked. _Lanyon could die down there!_

Hyde watched as Lanyon reached for the rifle on the ground, but the man kicked it away, and then hit Lanyon on the shoulder with the flamethrower.

“Hyde?” Rachel asked.

“...Get down there. Alert the police,” Hyde ordered, the tone of his voice unreadable.

“Are you going in there alone?” Rachel asked worriedly.

“I have a plan, for once,” Hyde said, glancing up at her. “Rachel, go down there and warn the police.”

“Right,” Rachel said, before going down the roof. Hyde listened to her leave, and then stood up, before taking a small bottle full of a red liquid and a vial of salt from his hip.

“I'll let you know, Jekyll, I hate every bit of your plan,” he said, pouring the salt into the bottle, causing the red inside to turn a bright green.

_A weapon has to protect his meister,_ Jekyll told him.

Hyde was silent as he threw the empty vial away, and downed the contents of the bottle.

 

* * *

 

“You insist on fighting me, even though you know you're going to lose!” Moreau shouted, picking up the rifle, and aiming it at Lanyon. “You're such a nuisance; I could end you right here and right now!”

Just as he was about to shoot Lanyon, though, a bright spinning flash jumped through the air, and sliced Moreau's rifle in half. It wedged itself into the ground, and the glow vanished to reveal a rapier with an elegant red and gold handle.

“Stay away,” Jekyll's voice warned. “I'm not letting you do anything to my meister and get away with it.”

Lanyon breathed a sigh of relief, and straightened up. “You're late,” he said, taking the sword out from the pavement.

“You're bleeding,” Jekyll said. “I hope I didn't arrive too late.”

“No, you're just in time,” Lanyon said. “We can finish this fight. But I'm going to need your Strings.”

“The Strings? Are you sure?”

“I'm bloody sore all over, Henry,” Lanyon told him. “And I need to finish this quickly. Let's stop this madman.” He held up his sword, and Jekyll made a noise of agreement. “Let's do this.”

“Soul Resonance!”

A powerful energy ran from meister to weapon, and weapon to meister, until the soul wavelength they created was stronger than either soul alone.

Gently, invisible strings attached themselves to Lanyon's limbs and body, and he felt himself move into a different position, extending his arm to hold out his weapon.

Lanyon could feel everyone's eyes on him as the blade grew longer and larger, until the bright red blade now resembled that of a scimitar's.

“Executioner's Slash!” Lanyon said, before turning to Moreau's golems.

The Lodgers and Frankenstein stayed out of the way as Lanyon found his tired body running and slicing through all of the golems in one swift stroke. When he had finished, the golems all fell apart, and he pointed the giant blade at Moreau's throat.

“Looks like you're the one who lost,” Lanyon told him.

Footsteps ran onto the scene, and the Executioner's Slash vanished, leaving an ordinary rapier blade. The invisible strings released Lanyon, and he leaned on the sword for support, panting.

The source of the footsteps, the police, ran up to Lanyon and Moreau. “Are you alright, Doctor?” Sergeant Brokenshire asked Lanyon. “What happened?”

“That man...” Lanyon pointed a finger at Moreau, who was beginning to be apprehended. “...That man tried to kill us...” He keeled over, and the sword turned back into Jekyll, who grabbed Lanyon, keeping him from falling over.

“Doctor, we can get you to a hospital,” Constable Jenkins said. Jekyll shook his head. “This isn't anything our healer can't help with,” he said.

“You still trust them, Dr. Jekyll?” Brokenshire asked. “Even after all the damage they've done to the street and their own building?”

“They were only protecting themselves from the golems and their enchanter,” Jekyll said. “Right, Robert?”

Lanyon brought a hand to his bleeding head, and nodded. “I can vouch for them,” he said. “Moreau...destroyed the doors, and set everything on fire...”

“Then why did this Moreau wreck up the whole place?' Brokenshire asked.

Lanyon's eyes widened, and he looked around the street. Some of the Lodgers were already putting out the fires and fixing the pavement with their magic, while a few wounded others were already going to Bird for healing.

“...Moreau was looking for someone...” Lanyon trailed off as he glanced over the area again.

Frankenstein and her Creature were nowhere in sight.

 


	15. Talking and Walking Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callista comes back to the Society, and Frankenstein changes her plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite how I made it sound, the two events mentioned above in the chapter summary are not connected. Just thought you should know.
> 
> Now watch as I swiftly run out of content with which to fill this AU!

In the end, the Lodgers had considered it luck that the police had chosen not to lock them up. And so, in the next few days, they set themselves to work cleaning up and fixing their building, as well as polishing their displays and finalizing their speeches for the upcoming Exhibition. Not a single thing could be out of place. They had one chance to prove themselves after this attack – they couldn't waste it.

This was the context, then, that Callista had walked into for another visit to the Society, which was made out of curiosity rather than concern – though she did feign the latter. She walked through the newly repaired doors and faced the atrium. Callista took a deep breath, and went over her plan.

She had known exactly how to take down Hyde from the beginning, but meeting Moreau on that night had changed it up quite a bit. She had hoped that Moreau would have been able to get Frankenstein and the Creature, or at least evaded arrest. That way, she could have gotten the problem of him ready to kill her for her soul done with. But this was fine, this was fine. She could work it out.

Callista walked towards the circle of runes in the center of the hall, with the candles around it still all lit. She bent down, and examined one of them.

“They don't go out easily, you know.”

Callista’s eyes widened, and she stood up slowly, looking around. “Who's there?” she asked, her voice getting low. Someone began to walk towards her, and she tensed.

“Those are Mr. Sinnett's special candles. They're for all the Lodgers – and there's only one way to put them out.”

Her eyes darted around the hall, and she took a guess. “Mr. Griffin? That is your name, right?”

“All correct.” Color faded back into what had seemed to be empty air behind her, and Callista looked to see Griffin standing there. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I'm here to see Dr. Jekyll,” Callista said, regaining her facade. Then she smiled a little. “Is this the welcoming committee?”

“You've got a sense of humor, surprisingly.” Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Jekyll's in his office, but he's busy.”

“Oh! Well...” Callista put her hand over her mouth. “Shall I leave a calling card?” Frankly, she didn't want to leave – she had come all this way, and she knew she could wait – but she had to maintain a level of common courtesy. She was about to take out a calling card when the doors to Jekyll's office opened, and out walked the man himself.

Jekyll came forward, and spotted Callista and Griffin standing by the circle of runes. “Miss Redrowe!” Jekyll said, walking down the stairs. “Mr. Griffin wasn't giving you any trouble, was he?”

Griffin huffed. “Is that all you think I do?” Upon hearing this, Callista had to resist looking at him. Griffin then turned towards Callista, and nodded, before leaving.

Callista allowed herself to watch him leave. There was something about that man...

“Miss Redrowe?” Jekyll asked, and Callista looked at him. “Ah, do forgive me, Doctor. I was miles away.”

Jekyll smiled. “Well, welcome back. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering how the Society was doing, after all the havoc that Dr. Moreau's done,” Callista began. “Can you imagine that he's back in London after being banned?”

“I know, it's dreadful to think about,” Jekyll said. “It's a good thing they're moving him to Bedlam.”

Jekyll's voice had lowered in volume, and his smile dropped. Callista had a good guess as to why that was.

“And Dr. Lanyon, is he alright? I heard he was involved in the fight,” she tried.

“He's been healed,” Jekyll said. Then he shook his head, and widened his smile. “But pardon me if I seem a little touched.”

“No, that makes sense; he's your meister,” Callista said. “As a weapon, you ought to protect your meister at all costs, am I right?”

Jekyll nodded. “I'm glad you understand. But it's nothing now; Lanyon is safe, the damages are repaired, and the Lodgers aren't in jail. And with a little luck, this situation will not repeat itself.”

“Well, you could use a little luck.” It wasn't too insincere, at least. Callista smiled sweetly, and Jekyll laughed, in the polite, reserved way. “That's true,” he said. “But at least I know people like you are concerned about the state of things here.”

She decided to try on another question. “Speaking of the state of things, I heard something interesting about your Society.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I heard that you have a vigilante meister-weapon pair associated with the Society,” she said. “Is that true?”

Jekyll cleared his throat. “Ahem, you needn't worry about that, Miss Redrowe,” he said. “That meister only hunts the kishin eggs that have not been assigned to the DWMA.”

“Well, what if they were assigned, and he didn't know?” Callista asked.

“There have been cases of that, but I assure you, he means no harm,” Jekyll said. “He just wants to contribute to the welfare of mankind, and I have reason to trust him.”

Callista watched his expression carefully as he spoke. It was almost as if Jekyll had rehearsed this over and over. “So you're not bothered at all by the meister; well, what of the weapon?”

“His weapon partner is being trained,” Jekyll said. “She hasn't had an opportunity to be formally educated in the ways of being a weapon as I have, so I decided that it would be best for her current meister to train her. One thing led to another, and suddenly, we now have a vigilante on our hands.”

“I see,” Callista said. “Well, what would you do if they took it too far?”

The first prick of nervousness seemed to poke Jekyll, Callista could tell from his face. “Of course, I would administer proper punishment.” He blinked. “But I do think that it is nice of you to worry about how this ruins our reputation.”

Callista recognized that trick; she had used it time and time again. “It is nice of me, isn't it,” she joked, laughing in a lady-like manner. “Well, by the way, you haven't forgotten about tea today, have you?”

“Lanyon reminded me of it. I'll be sure to attend this afternoon,” Jekyll said.

“Splendid.” Callista clapped her hands together. “I'll see you at tea, then.” And with that, she and Jekyll exchanged goodbyes, before she left. It was in a hansom, then, that Callista allowed herself to process the information she had gathered.

Jekyll cared a lot for Lanyon, it was obvious. And it was beyond the duties that weapons were obligated to carry out when it came to their meisters; the two of them enjoyed a close bond...

Also, Jekyll seemed to have a lot of trust in Hyde and Rachel. Which was odd. She didn't know if he knew about Hyde hunting kishin eggs to gather their souls, but he probably did, and was trying to hide it from her. Jekyll must have cared about Hyde a lot, then. So how could she break that?

Hyde...seemed to be making a Death Scythe out of Rachel, she realized.

Would it be enough?

There was only one way to find out.

And then there was Griffin – but Callista didn't allow that train of thought to go any further, as she put a hand to her burning face.

 

* * *

 

From the top of the stairs, Lanyon had been listening to Jekyll and Callista's conversation.

Jekyll had known about Hyde's weapon partner – and he hadn't told Lanyon. What else was Jekyll not telling him?

Why wasn't he telling him these things? Didn't Jekyll trust him?

...Was he trying to coddle him? It was a weapon's job to protect, not coddle!

“ _I can still fight.”_

“ _Not vithout a veapon, you can't.”_

He wouldn't need to be protected or coddled if he could handle things on his own, however.

Lanyon had to face it – no matter how good a fight he had put up against Moreau the other night, he had taken a beating, and was only able to strike the finishing blow with the help of Jekyll. Jekyll probably didn't want him to be concerned with whatever he was keeping from him because he didn't think Lanyon could handle the news well.

“All well, Robert?”

Lanyon snapped out of his thoughts to see Jekyll standing there, having walked up the stairs to meet him. He inhaled, and then exhaled.

“You know who Hyde's weapon partner is.”

Jekyll looked stunned. “Pardon?”

“I heard you talking with Miss Redrowe about Hyde's weapon, Henry, and her history,” Lanyon said, “as well as how you had made an agreement with Hyde. And somehow, you didn't think it wise to tell me.” He looked Jekyll in the eye. “Why not?”

“Robert...” Jekyll's mouth fell open.

“Oh, well, fine.” Lanyon walked past Jekyll and down the stairs. “I can't handle it, and all that.”

“Robert – no!” Jekyll ran down after him. “It isn't like that!”

“Then what is it like, Henry?” Lanyon asked, turning towards him. “Here I was, under the impression that you trusted me with everything, but...” He looked down, and crossed his arms. “I fully understand that keeping secrets is natural, like a girl you kissed when you were young or your most embarrassing moment. I never thought, though, that you would lie to me.”

Lanyon swallowed down the hurt, and managed to look Jekyll in the eye. Jekyll looked hurt.

“...I'm sorry,” he said. “Hyde's weapon, she didn't want me to tell you who she was. She feared for what you might do if you found out who she was.”

Lanyon watched Jekyll, before mustering a small smile. “Does this look like the face of a needlessly cruel man?” he asked, pointing at his face. “I heard what you said, that she's training under Hyde. I know that you can't train her yourself, with your busy schedule, and that it was Hyde's intention to turn to fighting kishin eggs, not yours.”

“You're...you're not mad?” Jekyll asked.

“I'm not mad about that. I'm just upset that you lied to me.” Lanyon sighed. “We can arrange for this woman to have proper training, even if it will take some time. But swear to me that this is the last time you lie to me.”

Jekyll put on a gorgeous smile. “It will be the last.”

Lanyon finally smiled wider. “You know, you can trust me with–” He paused.

Jekyll moved closer. “Robert?”

There was a familiar soul in the building. Lanyon focused on it, and sensed where it was coming from. Once he pinpointed it, he turned and ran down the rest of the stairs.

“Henry, follow me,” he commanded, and Jekyll followed after him, towards the door to Mosley's basement room. The door was ajar, and Lanyon threw it fully open before he and Jekyll entered the room.

It was as he had thought – Frankenstein was standing there, caught in the middle of rifling through the drawer by the bed.

“...I had forgotten something,” she said.

 

* * *

 

The next thing Frankenstein knew, she was bound to a chair, prevented from leaving by the Lodgers, with Lanyon and Jekyll standing in front of her. Somehow, this reminded her of the classes she had used to sit in, back when she was trying to make something out of herself beyond just being a golem enchanter like her parents before her. Except now, she was tied down by some vines and unable to escape.

Knowing witches and sorcerers, though, things could have been worse.

She cleared her throat. “Vhy am I being tied to a chair, again?”

“To prevent you from going mad and killing anyone here, of course,” Pennebrygg said.

Frankenstein looked at him. “Vhy would an old voman like me go berserk and start killing anyone in this hall?” She huffed. “I'm not stupid. I vouldn't kill vitches for sport.”

“You killed innocent humans, though,” Flowers replied. “We've heard all the tales about you, and how you went on a rampage in Switzerland.”

Frankenstein scoffed. “I vould never!” she said. “The people going on rampages were the angry mobs. I vas chased.”

“How are we supposed to believe you?” Ito asked. “You lied to us about your identity, and you lied to us about your golem.”

“I had to. Otherwise, this vould have happened.” Frankenstein frowned deeper. “I knew about the stories, and I knew how you vould react if I had told you who I really was. But let me set the record straight: history has not been kind, neither to me nor to my Creature. Both the DWMA and the vitches have varped my story beyond what had really happened. Neither I nor my Creature have killed anyone, whether human or witch, and I have not destroyed any villages.” Then she paused for a moment. “And before you ask, no, I am not a man!”

“So, is there any part of your story that is true?” Ito asked.

Frankenstein looked away. “Vell, I did rob graves of veapons and vitches. But-but that's in the past. I used to work for selfish gain, like Moreau. Now I just vant to live in peace.” She took a moment, and then looked at the Lodgers gathered around her. “That's a sentiment ve share, am I right?”

The Lodgers all looked at each other, while Lanyon came forward. “So you just came here because you needed to hide from Moreau?”

“Believe me, Doctor, that's all,” Frankenstein said. “I never meant to lead him to your Society.” She looked at her bonds. “Now you ought to untie me, lest–”

She was cut off by the main doors slamming open, and they all looked up as the Creature entered.

“...He'll come for you,” she finished.

The Creature's eyes fell upon Frankenstein, still tied to her chair, and growled. “What are you doing to her?” he asked, trudging towards them angrily.

“They veren't doing anything!” Frankenstein tried to reassure him. “They have me bound, but – that's just something they did to defend themselves!” Frankenstein then looked to Bird. “Quickly, untie me,” she whispered.

Bird did so, and once she was freed, Frankenstein swiftly walked over to the Creature, sighing in relief. “Thank goodness that's over,” she said.

“Did you get what you came for?” the Creature asked.

Frankenstein's face was frozen in a smile.

“...You didn't get them, did you?”

“They caught me before I could search thoroughly!” she said. “And it's been days; I don't know if they're even still there anymore!”

“Oh!” Bryson looked to Mosley. “Do you mean the sketches that Mosley found recently in his room?”

Frankenstein looked at him. “...Vhere are they?” she asked.

“Here,” Mosley said, taking a few pieces of paper from his coat. “I was wondering where they came from. They had to belong to the one person who had spent time in my room the past week – so I decided to keep them.”

He handed the papers to Frankenstein, who took them eagerly and looked them over. Sure enough, they were the sketches that she was looking for – sketches of her and two friends, from a bygone era.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and didn't notice how long she had been staring down at it until a large hand placed itself on her shoulder, and she looked up at the Creature.

“We have to go soon,” the Creature said. “Now that Moreau is in prison, we can go back to the Alps.”

Frankenstein nodded, and pocketed the sketches. They moved to leave, but then someone ran up to the door from outside, and stopped by the doorway. He looked up at them, and ran his fingers through his hair, avoiding his goggles and trying to catch his breath.

“Archer,” Jekyll said, moving a little closer to him. “What happened? Why are you in a hurry?”

“Jekyll – I–” Archer spotted Frankenstein in the atrium. “Miss Clerval! I mean, Miss–” He took a deep breath, and then managed to finally force a few words out. “I think you ought to hear this.”

 

* * *

 

 

Moreau had just broken out of prison.

The story was that someone had snuck into the jails, and poisoned some of the cops. This poisoning had caused them to leave the prisoners with less guards than usual, and that was when that person that had broken in came for Moreau, knocking out the other cops within.

“The poison's weak,” Callista said. “They'll be affected for a while, and the others can only be away for so long. Let's go.”

Moreau looked up at her, as she tipped her witch hat up to reveal her face. “You were correct that Frankenstein was there,” he said. “But I couldn't even get him – or strike down a single witch!” He snarled. “I wasn't expecting meisters and weapons to join in the fight.”

“We never do,” Callista told him. “You might have beat up Dr. Lanyon, but he got the upper hand in the end.”

“Not just that,” he continued. “There was another meister and weapon pair. An albino man was wielding a gun.”

An albino? Well, there was only one man in the Society that fit that description. But a gun? She had learned of a weapon within the Lodgers' ranks, the plant sorcerer's assistant...

“Well, let's worry about that later. I still need you for my plans,” Callista said.

“Are we going to the Society?” Moreau asked.

“No. You need to lay low, and Frankenstein may not be there anymore,” she replied. Then she smiled. “But you'll get your witch soul.”

Callista then held up a certain pair of gloves – Moreau's enchanting gloves. “Now summon forth your fifth golem. We need a diversion.”

Moreau took them, before sneering. “With pleasure.”

By the time Moreau's golem had broken into the jail and destroyed a good part of the building, Moreau and the person who had broken him out were long gone. And the tale had reached Archer's ears.

 

* * *

 

“He has an accomplice?”

“No way!”

“What are we going to do?”

“Will he come back?”

The Lodgers were all saying things, but it sounded distant. Frankenstein stared at the open doorway, inhaling and exhaling, but that action was far away to her too. Absently, her hand fell to the pocket where her sketches were.

“It can't be...” she said, hanging her head. She gritted her teeth together and clenched her hands into fists. “No matter where we go...that damned man cannot be stopped!”

“You could stay here.”

Everyone hushed, and Frankenstein looked at Jasper. Jasper froze, and curled into himself. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, no, Jasper,” Jekyll said. “What did you say?”

“It's nothing, I'm sorry,” Jasper babbled. “I didn't know what I was saying.”

Frankenstein turned fully towards Jasper. “You vere saying that I could stay here,” she said. “Vhy?”

Jasper looked nervous, but swallowed and answered, “Moreau...probably thinks you're outside London by now,” he said. “You were gone when he was arrested – I think he would assume you left.”

“And what about the DWMA?” Lanyon asked. “They've probably been alerted that Frankenstein is still alive.”

“Moreau is also assumed to be mad,” Flowers joined in. “And even if they did believe him, they're looking for a man with a ferocious weapon-golem.” She mustered a smile. “Not a woman and her normal golem.”

Frankenstein watched as several of the Lodgers began to mutter among themselves.

“Can we let her stay?”

“She means no harm.”

“What about the golem?”

“Can we conceal her?”

Jasper looked quite apologetic for having put the idea in everyone's heads. Jekyll seemed to seriously be considering it as well. Lanyon watched the Lodgers, as if confused as to why they were thinking it all over.

Frankenstein blinked, and glanced down at the pocket carrying her sketches for a moment. She then looked up at the Creature, who was staring down at her, awaiting her decision. She inhaled, and then sighed.

“I think,” she said, “that I vill stay here.”

Everyone fell quiet again, and this time they stared at her.

“Really?” Jasper asked.

“What?!” Lanyon looked incredulous.

“What.” The Creature said flatly.

“Kaylock is right; knowing Moreau, he'll be vaiting for a ship leaving London to track me down,” she said. “He has to believe for sure that I've left, though. I can make two golems similar to the Creature and I, and have him track them down. When he is out of London, ve can return to the Alps. And besides, I don't think Moreau will be expecting me to stay vith vitches and sorcerers who may be out for my blood after leading Moreau here.”

“What – you're really staying?” Lanyon turned to Jekyll. “Henry, this is insane. Tell her this plan is too risky! Not to mention we have an Exhibition coming up – where can we hide her? Where can we hide the Creature?”

“Ve'll stay out of your way; ve'll find a place, but we have nowhere else to stay but here,” Frankenstein cut in. “And you all understand that I want to live in peace alongside my Creature. This is the only plan we have to get rid of Moreau for good.”

She then reached up and tied her hair into a bun, and when she had finished, she grinned slyly. “Besides, it's Victor Frankenstein that is a liability to you, not Elizabeth Clerval.”

Jekyll looked from Lanyon to Frankenstein for a few seconds, before sighing. “You can stay here, as long as you stay hidden during the Exhibition and never let slip that you are anyone but Miss Clerval, until you have finished your plan.”

Lanyon's mouth fell open in shock, while the Lodgers applauded, and Frankenstein smiled wider. She then watched as he put a hand to his forehead.

“Bring me a chair,” he said. “I think I feel faint."

 


	16. Death Scythes and Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Society accommodates a guest who is less than thrilled to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter in a while. School got me busy, and then the rest of the Internet got me distracted. You know how it is.
> 
> We meet a character who was mentioned in Jasper's introduction (if you recall), and we soon find out that this character is...not so nice.

The rattling of tea cups and saucers on the tray sounded in Rachel's ears – she didn't mean for it, and yet her hands were shaking. But she couldn't help it, she tried to console herself. She was serving a guest that, in all honesty, intimidated her more than anything.

She walked up to Jekyll's office, and found Archer outside, trying to listen to something through the door. The sight of Archer made her relax a little. It wasn't uncommon for the Lodgers to try and eavesdrop on Jekyll talking to a guest he had brought to the Society, usually listening in droves. However, now it was just Archer – and she could see why.

Archer looked at her, and motioned for her to come closer. “You know who's behind that door, don't you, Rachel?” he asked. “Scared the Lodgers right off!”

“Yes, I know,” Rachel replied. “I can't believe it either.”

“The Death Scythe in charge of Europe, inside the Society!” Archer crouched back down to the keyhole. “And they're talking about Jasper!”

“Jasper?” Rachel's curiosity was piqued, but then she remembered the tray in her hands. She shook her head. “Archer, you can tell me later, alright? But I have to get this to them.”

“Of course, of course,” Archer said, making way for her. “Sorry 'bout that.”

Rachel smiled at him, as if to remind him that it was no big deal, before putting one hand on the doorknob and opening the door.

As she expected, there were two people in the office. Jekyll was seated behind the desk, as usual, his fingers interlocked and his face in a genial smile. And as for the man seated opposite Jekyll – his legs were crossed, and he was stroking the mustache that he sported. Even under his suit, it was evident that he was built, and he clearly looked like the sort of person who exerted influence over a room, as Jekyll did himself. And yet Jekyll seemed to be at ease in his presence.

Rachel gulped. So this was a Death Scythe.

The two of them looked at Rachel as she entered the room, and she cleared her throat. “I-I have your tea,” she said, trying not to look nervous at all.

“Thank you, Miss Pidgley,” Jekyll said. She came closer to the desk, and carefully set the tray down. She laid out the teacups for them, and then took up the teapot as the man began to talk once more.

“As I was saying, Jekyll, your attitude of saving witches is...understandable, given your objective to collect witches that want to work for the common good,” the man said. “But I don't see what a werewolf has to do with it.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Seire, the Society for Witches and Sorcerers is all about giving second chances to those who need it the most,” Jekyll told him. “And Jasper Kaylock has nowhere else to go.”

“Right, but the boy – the werewolf – went on a rampage when Mr. Carten went to subdue him,” Seire argued. “I don't think he's the best person to be giving a second chance to.”

“Seire, Mr. Kaylock is a bright young man – he studied at the London School for Magic, he knows how dangerous he can be. And he needs a safe environment to practice his powers.”

Seire put a hand under his chin. “Are you helping him practice his magic, then?”

Jekyll leaned back in his chair. “I'm leaving that task to the very capable Lodgers. They know how to handle werewolves. Or rather, they know how to handle transformation magic.”

“I see,” Seire said. “Well, it's reasonable. You are a busy man.”

“I am indeed,” Jekyll replied.

Rachel placed the teapot back on the tray, having poured the tea out throughout the conversation. It was as if the two men were trying to exert their authority over each other – Seire as the Death Scythe, and Jekyll as the Society's founder. Both equally powerful in the playing field, and trying to use it to their advantage.

“Busy, so you would need someone to handle things for you. Like an assistant, perhaps?” Seire said. He leaned further towards Jekyll. “I heard you have an assistant that is a vigilante.”

Jekyll still looked as poised as ever. “I assure you, my assistant is capable. And he's convinced he has to kill kishin eggs to ensure the peace of London.”

(Rachel knew that wasn't true, but she didn't open her mouth.)

Seire nodded. “Then convince him otherwise, Jekyll. Ah, it's just like when we were in the Academy together – you let your meister Lanyon assert himself over you every single time. Funny that it should be the issue of witches being good that you are so vocal about.”

He laughed, and then looked at Rachel. It was then that Rachel realized she had lingered for longer than she should have. She gathered up the tray, and turned away.

“You seem awfully interested in what we're saying, Miss...Pidgley, was it?” Seire said, causing Rachel to freeze. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“It's...it's not that way at all, sir,” she said. “It doesn't concern me, I was just thinking.”

“You don't have to hide it, Miss Pidgley; even if you are a maid, you're entitled to your own opinion!” Seire moved to face Rachel. “He stands up for too many witches and other undeserving people, doesn't he?”

“They're not undeserving, and you can't force her to say anything,” Jekyll finally said. “Rachel, you can leave now.”

Rachel did as she was told and made for the door, and opened it. Archer was still standing outside, and she must have thrown the door open a little too widely, because Seire spoke again.

“Do we have an eavesdropper?' he asked. Rachel and Archer looked back at him, the door still ajar. He then laughed. “I knew it, though. I have excellent hearing, even through closed doors. I heard that one talking.” He pointed at Archer. “Now...”

From out of a device under Seire's sleeve, something shining came out from the sleeve of the finger pointed at Archer. Archer narrowly dodged so that it embedded itself in the banister of the stairs. Looking closely at it, Rachel could see that it was a small knife. She stared at it, while Archer looked at the man.

“...What is this sorcerer doing here?” Seire asked.

“No sorcerer here,” Archer said cautiously. “I'm just one of the residents' assistant.”

Seire leaned forward. “How does that not make you a nosy little magic user?”

Archer's response was to walk over to the banister and pull out the knife, before turning swiftly around and throwing it back at Seire. Seire dodged just as quickly, and Rachel watched as the knife then flew towards Jekyll – who caught the handle as the blade was an inch away from his face. He then inhaled deeply, as if he were trying not to have an outburst, and then lowered the knife calmly, exhaling.

“Gentlemen, please,” Jekyll said “Let's not start a fight here. How about we have some proper introductions?”

“Of course, where are my manners,” Seire said gruffly. “My apologies to both the maid and the assistant. My name is Concord Seire, Death Scythe.”

Rachel wasn't sure what to do, so she kept her gaze lowered. “Rachel Pidgley, cook of the Society.”

Archer, on the other hand, crossed his arms. “Christopher Archer. Assistant.” He pointed at himself, then at Rachel. “And we're weapons too, just like you.”

“Archer!” Rachel said in a loud whisper – she didn't want to be outed as a weapon just yet!

Seire's eyes widened. “Weapons!” he said. “You didn't tell me sooner. Of what kind?” He turned to Archer. “From your sharpshooting, I'm guessing you're a firearm, correct?”

Archer didn't reply. Seire only laughed. “You must still be mad about me throwing a knife at you, hm? Well, forget about it! I'm willing to make amends!”

“Yeah, sure,” Archer said, still miffed.

Seire then looked at Rachel. “And you don't seem like a very unusual weapon. Possibly a blade of some sort.” He then directed his words to Jekyll. “Though having a female weapon in the kitchen – what a bold statement!”

Rachel bowed her head lower. Jekyll looked to Seire. “It would only be a statement if it weren't the job she had chosen for herself. She is capable, and I haven't overlooked that.”

“Well.” Seire stroked his mustache again. “Have either of them studied at the Academy?”

Rachel glanced at Archer. He was visibly uncomfortable.

“No,” Jekyll admitted. “But–”

“You're letting talent go to waste, Jekyll!” Seire interrupted. “Having weapons work under witches – the thought of it!” He waved a hand dismissively. “But enough of that. I'm here to see your werewolf. Where is he?”

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the training room, Jasper stood facing Luckett. Jasper clasped his hands together, and seemed to concentrate on the man before him, before closing his eyes.

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes again. Luckett vanished, and then reappeared on the far side of the room. Luckett looked a little dizzy, but not too much, and he steadied his footing in a few seconds.

“Good job, Jasper!” he said. “Now you're getting it!” He clapped, and Jasper shyly smiled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, I mean – I haven't even managed to teleport you into another room.”

“Ah, let's start small first,” Luckett called, coming closer. “Besides, you're very good for a beginner non-witch. You excel at using your latent magic.”

“Don't flatter Jasper too much,” Ito called from her seat. “He's going to hold expectations of himself that are too high if you keep that up.”

“Yes, but a little compliment or two never hurt anyone,” said Luckett. “When he deserves praise, I give it to him.”

As Ito continued to argue her point, Frankenstein watched it all from the doorway. To be completely honest, she had only come because she was hungry, and the damned bell in her and the Creature's new room wasn't working. And now she was looking for Rachel, but she had no idea where the kitchen was. Living in the basement with a working bell could do that to a person.

She wondered when was a perfect time to ask the Lodgers about this. She didn't think they would mind if she interrupted their little lesson. In addition, Jasper seemed to like her a little, even if she didn't know why. So she took a breath, before making her presence known by the people in the room with an “Ahem.”

Jasper, Luckett, and Ito looked up to see her in the doorway. “Miss Clerval!” Luckett said. Then he caught himself. “I mean, Miss Frankenstein. Sorry, it's not that easy to get used to calling you by your real name when we've known you for longer as your other identity.”

Frankenstein shrugged. “Keep calling me that. You can get used to it so you won't call me by my real name around strangers.” She then put her hands on her hips. “Do you know where the kitchen is?”

Ito raised a hand and gestured with it. “Down the hall, and down the stairs leading to the atrium. You'll find the door to the kitchen past the common room and the showers.”

“Those are vague directions,” Frankenstein commented.

“If Hyde can find it, so can you,” Ito replied.

Frankenstein didn't like to lose to a simple jab at her, so maybe she would find the kitchen with those directions alone. Frankenstein had already turned on her heel with a curt “Thank you,” and was about to leave the room when she heard footsteps and voices coming towards the door.

One of those voices, she recognized, was Jekyll's. And listening closer, she realized he was accompanied by someone she didn't recognize at all.

She turned right back around and hurried towards somewhere, anywhere she could hide. She couldn't be seen out in the open, not while Jekyll was bringing guests. She didn't think she could handle seeing more strangers come in and out of the Society.

“What's the matter, Miss?” Luckett asked.

“Jekyll's coming,” was all she could say.

Upon hearing those words, Jasper stood up straighter, and Luckett adjusted his hat. Ito stayed in her seat, undaunted. Frankenstein herself hid inside a closet, which was full of weapons. The little crack between the doors to the closet revealed to her Jekyll, Archer, and Rachel, along with another man she didn't recognize, entering the training room.

“So this is the werewolf,” the man said, eyeing Jasper.

Jasper shrank under his gaze. “Y-yes, sir, I'm the werewolf,” he said nervously.

Jekyll put a hand behind his back, while the other he waved towards the unknown man. “Jasper, I would like you to meet Mr. Concord Seire, the Death Scythe in charge of Europe. Mr. Seire, this is–”

“I know. Jasper Kaylock,” Seire said. “Mr. Daniel Carten's report was comprehensive enough.”

Jasper gulped. “Where – where is Mr. Carten? I thought he would be the one to inspect me.”

Seire replied, “Mr. Carten has been...put on leave for a few months. Meanwhile, I just happened to be in London for a few days, and I thought, why not follow up on that werewolf Jekyll took in? It would be a shame, though, if he hadn't gotten anywhere with his transformations, which seem to be so abominably out of control.”

Jasper hesitated a little. Frankenstein wasn't surprised – Jasper seemed to be the timid sort – but surely he would tell of his progress sooner or later? Luckily for him, Luckett took the stage, standing in front of him a little protectively.

“Sorry to say, but Jasper's transformation control is still a work in progress,” Luckett said. “But I've been teaching him other things, and surely you would understand – you've had trouble transforming into a weapon too when you were young, haven't you, sir?”

“Don't talk to me as if you're familiar with me,” Seire replied. “And at the Academy, we practice everyday until we fully control our transformations instead of squandering our time learning other things. Untamed werewolves can be dangerous to human society, you know.”

“A werewolf is different from a weapon,” Ito said from her place. “Jasper can busy himself with other things if it keeps him sane. He's not busy making a soldier out of himself.”

Seire looked at Ito. “Are you comparing the noble fight of the DWMA against evil to a senseless war?”

“Of course, of course, how could I forget,” Ito returned. “It's not a senseless war. It's a genocide.”

Jekyll tried to come forward. “Now, now, Miss Ito, now is not the time for such opinions–”

“Now is the perfect time for such opinions, Jekyll,” Ito told him. “A Death Scythe is here among us; we might as well make our grievances known.”

“I am here for the werewolf, not to listen to how witches supposedly suffer at the hands of Death and his fighters,” Seire retorted. “It's child's knowledge that Death gives chances to the good and eliminates the wicked, no matter whether human or witch.”

“Then why are you willing to 'eliminate' the children of witches and sorcerers, who are in no way under the Sway of Magic yet?”

Frankenstein saw the man stand still. Jekyll looked away.

“I don't like it as much as you do, sir,” Luckett cut in for Ito. “Some of us may kill each other's innocent children now, but that doesn't mean humans and witches can't live in peace one day. If you give us a chance, then we will give you one.”

Frankenstein leaned forward. This had escalated rather quickly. Something in the cabinet behind her moved, and leaned against her back – it was a blade on a stick. She froze, and looked at it, before relaxing just a bit. The blade wasn't pointing anywhere on her body; that was good.

Frankenstein turned her attention back to the scene outside the closet, just as Seire began to speak again.

“I'm not here for your political opinions; I'm here for the werewolf,” Seire insisted. He looked at Jasper. “How far along are you in your transformations?”

“Sir–”

The Death Scythe held up a fist towards Luckett, who had tried to speak. He continued to stare down at Jasper. “How. Far. Along. Are you?”

“I – sir...” Jasper said weakly. “If I transform now, I might lose control of myself, and I might hurt someone.”

“Is that so?” Seire lowered the fist pointed at Luckett. Then we have nothing more to discuss. The boat will be here to pick up Mr. Kaylock in two weeks' time.”

Seire turned around, and began to walk away. The Lodgers, Jasper, and Rachel only watched him leave – Jekyll was the only one to try and follow the Death Scythe. “Seire!” he called. “Jasper is a good person – the Exhibition will prove it!”

“Jekyll, no matter what he may do, he is a danger to society.” Seire stopped, and looked over his shoulder at Jekyll. “You shouldn't be trusting witches with things like this.”

He was about to turn around again when Frankenstein leaned a little too much on the door, and the closet opened, causing her to lose her balance and fall out of her place. Some of the weapons clattered around her, and everyone looked in her direction. She pushed herself up, but didn't even get the chance to curse before a knife was launched at her from under Seire's sleeve.

“Is there any resident of this damned Society who doesn't listen in on peoples' conversations?!” he asked angrily. Frankenstein got to her feet, and was tempted to pick up a weapon and throw it at him. She nearly did, in fact, when she heard a growl, and they all looked at Jasper.

He was beginning to curl into himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked as if he was in pain. Frankenstein couldn't help gasping – she hadn't seen the boy transform since the Blackfog Bazaar.

Without hesitating, Seire transformed his hand into the end of a rifle, and pointed it straight at Jasper. Frankenstein caught this, and was about to run forward to stop him – but Rachel was quicker; for it seemed she had snapped out of her silence. In a few seconds, Rachel jumped towards Seire and transformed her own hand into a sickle blade, before swatting his rifle hand away as a bullet was fired from it. The bullet landed in the ceiling, sending fragments of the ceiling raining down on them.

Jasper flinched at the bits of the ceiling, but that didn't stop the extra hair from growing, or the tail from coming out of his back. His nails lengthened and turned into claws, and his growls became more and more inhuman.

“Jasper, steady, you have to calm down,” Luckett said, holding his hands up. Jasper got down on all fours, but looked up at him sorrowfully. He tried to say something, but choked on it, and curled up once more.

Rachel was the only one who rushed forward, towards the transforming werewolf. She knelt down close to him. “Jasper, listen to us,” she said, slowly reaching out to him. He panted, his face somewhat half-shifted into a snout, and he looked up at her this time.

Then he snarled, and opened his mouth, showing rows of sharp teeth in a split second, before biting down.

Rachel blocked with her sickle hand, before staying still as he gnawed on it. She stretched out her hand fully towards him, and gently patted his fur.

“Are you in there, Jasper?” she asked. “I know this hasn't worked before, but...I also know you're in there.”

Frankenstein watched her carefully. What would happen if it didn't work? She stepped closer towards the weapons to be sure.

It did seem like Jasper was plenty subdued now, though; he was just taking noisy breaths and relaxing into Rachel's touch. Rachel finally allowed herself to smile, and Jasper released her blade from his jaws. She turned the blade back into a hand, then used both hands to scratch Jasper's head. The werewolf responded by wagging his tail.

“I knew it,” Rachel said happily.

Archer and Luckett breathed sighs of relief, and Frankenstein withdrew from the weapons. Jasper must have gotten a hold of himself much better than he had at the Bazaar.

Seire looked at all this, and then huffed. “You can keep the werewolf at the Exhibition,” he declared. “But I'll be there to keep an eye on him. And then in two weeks, he's out of London.”

He turned to walk away, but then shot glances at Archer and Rachel. “And you two weapons,” he said, “you'll be hearing from me.”

Frankenstein and the others watched him leave, before she put her hands on her hips. “Death Scythes,” she added. “Always acting like they have more authority than they actually do.”

Jasper whined, much like a dog, sinking lower to the floor. “I'm really sorry,” he said, his tail in between his legs.

“No, I should have calmed you down much sooner,” Rachel told him.

Luckett came forward. “Ah, don't blame yourselves. It was clear from the beginning that he was going to be difficult with us.” He bent down to Jasper's level. “Are you alright, Jasper?”

Jasper shrugged. “I don't think so.”

“Can you change back?”

“I don't know.”

Jasper then looked away as Jekyll came forward. “I'm sorry I got you into trouble with Mr. Seire,” he said.

Jekyll replied, “It's my fault. I hadn't kept a close enough eye on you. But I swear, I will take better care of you.”

“How?” Jasper asked. “I'm already scheduled to be on a boat going to the Academy in two weeks!”

“You can learn how to control your transformations by then,” Ito told him. “They're only going to test you there – if you can prove that you can keep your mind during a transformation, and that you mean no harm, they might let you return to London.”

Jasper looked at Ito. “But how do I do that? I can't do it!”

“Yes, you can,” Luckett said. “We'll just train you harder. But no pressure.”

“Right...” Jasper said weakly.

Frankenstein looked from one Lodger to another, and sighed. She just wanted some food.

 


	17. The Exhibition Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the Exhibition! And a lot of people have things on their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha weren't expecting the Exhibition so soon in the story, eh?

Before anyone knew it, the grand Exhibition had arrived in just a day.

Callista looked down at herself, and wondered what the Exhibition would be like. Surely, the Lodgers would be putting up various displays of their magic and how it would be useful to mankind. And Jekyll and Lanyon would be making speeches and answering all sorts of questions – they would be busy the whole evening, no doubt. Either way, she would see what the Society had been doing with her and its other benefactors' money.

She looked out the window of her carriage, at the passing buildings. She was getting closer. Callista then looked back to the front of the carriage, and reviewed the plan to herself.

She would extract more information, of course. She needed to make sure her plan would work smoothly, and of course it would help to execute said plan after this night, at the height of the Society's popularity. Which, after this night, was going to be higher than usual. She didn't care if it took too much time, though. All that mattered was executing it at all.

And she would do something else – but the carriage stopped before she could dwell on it further.

The door to her carriage opened, and Callista stepped outside to take a look at the Society.

There was a bright array of decorations, with many colors pleasing to the eyes, from long ribbons to large signs with welcoming greetings on them. People walked inside the building, and as Callista passed them, she noticed how they were all talking about the Society.

Well, soon she would have them talking about the Society, but in a different way.

She walked up the stairs leading to the main doors of the building, and met Lavender there, welcoming everyone inside. When she saw Callista, she beamed wider.

“Miss Redrowe!” she said. “I was hoping you'd show up. I like the way you're so enthusiastic about magic, so I guess this is like a dream come true for you, right?”

Callista smiled. “I guess so.” She then looked around again. “It's hard to believe that your dreams of benefitting mankind have come to fruition here in this place.”

“And it's good to have a place where we fit in.” Lavender then waved Callista inside. “But enough about that. Welcome, and enjoy your stay!”

Callista went inside, giving a “Thank you,” to Lavender before coming inside. She looked around at the atrium – not much had changed. Everything was the same, save for the generally cleaner look of the displays, and a glass dome that was now covering the rune circle and the candles. People were looking down at it, as if trying to decipher what it meant. Callista herself stepped forward, and laid a hand on the dome.

This could become useful later.

And whatever happened later, she would plan for it.

 

* * *

 

Another benefactor had just arrived. Great, just another thing to add to Archer's anxieties. He gripped the railing of the second floor tighter, and sighed. Now was not the best time to be nervous, but still...

“What're you doing out here?”

The voice's sudden arrival made Archer jump, and he looked up to see Griffin – thankfully, he hadn't turned himself invisible just to say that. “Huh? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, I thought you would be in your and Bird's room, preparing the plants or something,” Griffin said, stepping closer.

Archer mustered up a small smile. “I'm already done with that sort of thing. How about you?”

“I'm done as well. Of course, I didn't need to set up much. It _is_ a display on invisibility, after all.” Griffin chuckled a little, and Archer chuckled right back. He didn't notice Griffin looking him over, until the other man frowned a little.

“You expect to face everyone in a suit worn like that?” Griffin asked, taking hold of Archer's shoulders and turning him in his direction. “Your tie's all loose. Let me...”

He trailed off as he began to untie Archer's necktie, and took the ends in his hands so that he could fix it. Archer stared down at his hands as they weaved through the fabric, Griffin's pale fingers contrasting with the tie's dark green.

When Griffin was finished, he tucked it into Archer's waistcoat, and looked back up at him. “There,” he said. “And tie your laces neatly, too, you could trip.”

Archer nodded, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment – it was only then that he had realized just how close they were standing to each other. He felt his ears heat up a little, and Griffin's face colored. Finally, after two more seconds, they were able to tear their eyes away from each other.

Griffin was the first to try to speak. “So, you're feeling nervous about presenting your work,” he said.

“What? No.” Archer tried to play it off. “Why would I be worried over something as small as that?” He forced a laugh, but all Griffin did was stare at him.

“...Fine,” Archer relented. “So maybe I'm a little nervous. It's just...if someone told my younger self that I would end up here, I wouldn't believe it. Even if it is a place for witches and sorcerers – like the opposite of the DWMA – I still can't believe I found a place to prove myself. But have I really proven myself? What if people only see that I'm just a kid picked off the streets?”

He turned back to the railing, and leaned on it, watching the people downstairs look at the glass dome in the center. Griffin walked towards him, and from the corner of his eye Archer could see that he was still standing upright.

“You know, Archer,” he said, “I don't know where you came from, or what the hell that's supposed to mean, and I've come from a different place, so I can't relate to you at all.”

Archer frowned up at him, but before he could say a word of complaint, Griffin went on.

“But,” he said, “chances are, no one you're presenting to can either. They don't know anything about you, or how you got to where you are today. They only care about how good you are at your job. And I think you'll have little trouble proving yourself in that area.”

Griffin cracked the tiniest of smiles at him. Archer smiled wider than he did. “Well, when you put it that way,” he said. “Thanks, Griffin.”

“Well,” Griffin said, stepping closer to the railing and looking over the people as well. “It's, as they say, what partners are for.”

Archer slowly nodded. “...Partners.”

They had successfully evaded the elephant in the room – but then brought it back. Good mercy, it had nearly been a week since it had happened. They should have gotten over it by now.

But...they hadn't.

“What happened there?” Griffin finally tried. “When I tried to resonate with you that night.”

Archer exhaled audibly. There it was.

“I don't know,” he said.

“You told me yourself you couldn't do it.” Griffin pushed on. “You were screaming. I...”

Archer was afraid he would say it, but Griffin said it anyway.

“...I saw something, Archer.” Griffin leaned down on the railing to face Archer. “You have to tell me what's wrong, otherwise–”

“It's _nothing_ ,” Archer insisted. “Even if it was, I-I don't have to tell you everything.” He gripped the railing tighter. “Just leave it alone."

“Archer.” The other man leaned in further. “You can tell me, I'm your–”

“Partner, yes, and that's what partners are for,” Archer said, a tad more irritably than he had liked. “But you ought to drop it, Griffin.”

He shrank into himself, a stinging sensation within his chest. And – oh no, were those tears in his eyes? Archer turned and walked away at this point, unable to face Griffin.

And to think he had been waiting for that man; well, if he couldn't leave well enough alone, then so be it.

Was this really what partners were for?

 

* * *

 

Archer walked quickly past Jasper, who looked up to see him pass by. Once Archer was past him, Jasper turned back to the railing separating him from a fall down to the atrium. He rested his arms on it, and watched the people from below.

He wondered if any high-ranking policemen were below, relieved of their duties for one night to know whether the Lodgers could be considered criminals or not. He wondered if they would accompany Seire in inspecting him.

That was right – he was going to be watched tonight.

Jasper sighed. Maybe he ought not to think about it. But he couldn't help but worry – and he was beginning to worry about whether or not he should be worried when footsteps came up to him, and he turned around.

“Evening!” Tweedy said brightly. “D'you mind if I join you?”

Jasper didn't know if there was a correct answer to that question, so what came out was “No, you can stay here.” Tweedy took the invitation and stood beside Jasper, grinning at him.

“What a crowd, huh?” Tweedy said. “You think these people would like what we made?”

“Uh...I don't know, I mean; my research isn't much...” Jasper said.

Tweedy looked at him. “Well, don't have such a low opinion of yourself, Wolfy,” he said. “Our exhibits are just fine, but I bet you'll do great. After all, you've been preparing for this since you were in the School of Magic!”

“Heh, I was, but,” Jasper said, “I was working for a paper, not an exhibit...and what if they don't like what I say?”

“Then that's their loss,” Tweedy said. “I bet you'll do good. You didn't spend all that time practicing in between your magic lessons for nothing!”

Jasper found it in himself to smile. “Thanks.”

More footsteps came up to him, and both he and Tweedy looked up to see Virginia. “Jekyll and Lanyon have arrived,” she said simply. The three of them looked down at the main hall.

Sure enough, Jekyll and Lanyon were coming through the main doors, and eyes all turned in their direction. The people made way for the honorable founders, and Jekyll and Lanyon came up the stairs to elevate themselves from the crowd.

Jasper gulped, and looked around. All eyes were on the men, before Lanyon opened his mouth.

“Greetings to all of you, and welcome to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers,” Lanyon told them. “On this fine evening, the residents of this Society have prepared various presentations for you, which will no doubt show how their magic can benefit our country, and perhaps even the world.”

Several people clapped, and Jasper watched Lanyon and how he didn't seem to have any problem speaking in front of the crowd, above everyone else. And to think that soon, he would be in that position...

His hands clenched into fists. Inside, the wolf was sneering. Please, he begged himself, please don't lose control, not on this night...

“But before we move along, my friend and partner, Dr. Henry Jekyll, will give us a few words,” Lanyon said, waving to Jekyll. “Dr. Jekyll, if you please.”

More applause sounded as Jekyll came forward, and greeted the crowd. Jasper's stomach turned. Jekyll didn't seem to be very nervous either. Now Jasper was feeling quite ill, and was doing his best to will himself not to lose control.

“When I was a young man,” Jekyll began, “I had an affinity for what the world considered strange and unusual. I was always eager to find out more about the wondrous side of the planet that we live in. This remained especially as I began to study at the honorable Death Weapon Meister Academy, and it was enough for me, until I found out this one simple fact: that witches are capable of good.

“This may seem controversial, knowing what you were all taught about witches in school,” he went on. “But I traveled the world, and met various witches and sorcerers – many of whom live in this building now – who are interested in the welfare of mankind. They want to create a better world, not destroy the one we already have.

“And so I say to you, who are we to crush their dream of working alongside us, just because they are not human? If they mean no harm, then why attack them? I believe that if we encourage them to do good, we might inspire other witches and sorcerers to do the same. This Exhibition will prove that the residents of the Society, as well as other witches and sorcerers, can do good things for mankind. I only ask you to witness this historic moment. So thank you, and enjoy your stay here.”

The sound of clapping was louder this time, and suddenly Jasper didn't feel so ill anymore.

Jekyll was able to voice his opinions without fear, and everyone had loved it. So Jasper felt that he didn't need to be afraid of what the people he would be speaking to thought – they already accepted Jekyll's speech, what reason would they have to disregard his?

He inhaled, and then exhaled. Lanyon was speaking to the crowd again, but it was low under his revelation. The wolf was silent.

One last round of applause sounded, and that concluded Jekyll and Lanyon's speech. The crowd began to disperse, eager to begin looking at the exhibits. Tweedy clapped a hand on Jasper's shoulder. “Curtains up,” he said, giving Jasper one last grin before walking away.

“Good luck, Jasper,” Virginia said as well, looking at Jasper and showing him a rare smile.

Jasper watched his fellow Lodgers leave, and breathed deeply once more. He could do this.

Watching the mass of people go up the stairs for the exhibits, Jasper – as well as everybody else – missed a woman heading for Jekyll's office.

 

* * *

 

While some of the Lodgers had watched Jekyll and Lanyon's speech, others had not – and that was because they were still working on the finishing touches on their exhibits. Such as Mr. Doddle, who had enlisted the help of Rachel to make sure that his sweets were absolutely perfect.

“I can't believe we managed to make this many,” Rachel said, attempting more to start a conversation than anything else. She looked over the rows of sweets that she and Doddle had made, and Doddle did as well, before putting a hand to his chin.

“We might still need more,” Doddle said. “We never know how many people are out there, or if they want seconds.”

“Oh, sure,” Rachel said, trying not to look tired. “Do we have enough ingredients for a new batch?”

Doddle was already picking up a mixing bowl as he spoke. “Yes, but we need extra hands. The Exhibition is about to begin.”

“That's good,” Rachel said. “I mean, I have been kind of slowing you down.”

“Of course you haven't, Miss Pidgley.” Doddle looked at Rachel. “You've been a big help, but you might be tired.” He levitated a few ingredients in the air, along with the mixing bowl. “And I can only do so many things at a time.”

“But where do we find a person willing to help out at this stage?” Rachel asked.

It was then that someone knocked on the door, and then opened it. Rachel was surprised to see Frankenstein peer inside.

“I...smelled food,” Frankenstein said awkwardly. “And I know I'm not supposed to interfere, but could I–”

“Miss!” Doddle said, rushing over and pulling her inside. “You have to help us prepare. It's just one more batch, and then you can leave.”

“Vhat?!” Frankenstein asked. “But – I'm no good at cooking!”

“You don't have to do much; Rachel and I will take care of the more complex things and you can do things like decorate the sweets,” Doddle told her. “Now we have to move!” He clapped his hands twice, and got right to work.

Frankenstein looked at Rachel. “Is he alvays like this?”

Rachel shrugged. “I've never seen him this way. Maybe it's just nerves.”

“Ah.” Frankenstein then sighed. “Does this count as interfering?”

“I prefer to think of it as you helping us,” Doddle said. “Rachel, help her prepare the frosting!”

“Alright,” Rachel said, pulling Frankenstein aside to a separate counter. She then said to the other woman, “I'll measure the ingredients out, and you mix them all together.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Frankenstein said, pulling a bowl closer. Then she picked up a whisk, and looked at it curiously.

Rachel measured some egg whites, and then poured them into the bowl. “Beat them until they're fluffy,” she instructed.

“...Vhat?”

“Use that,,” Rachel pointed at the whisk she was holding.

After a few instructions, Frankenstein proved herself a fast learner, and before they knew it, she was now able to keep pace with Doddle and Rachel. Soon they were putting frosting on the streets.

Rachel looked at Frankenstein, slowing down a little in her actions. The woman was copying the previous frosting patterns, almost methodically. She would tell Frankenstein not to rush it so much either, but the woman intimidated her. In fact, she didn't know how to talk to her at all.

“Vhy are you staring at me?”

Rachel fumbled with her knife. “O-oh, nothing, I was just wondering how you were coming along with your frosting,” she said. She steadied her knife, and began frosting the sweet once more. They were both silent for a while, until Frankenstein spoke up.

“That vas impressive,” she said, “the vay you managed to bring Kaylock back to his senses after he transformed.”

“Really?” Rachel asked. “It wasn't much – I just did what I had to do, you know.”

“Still, you have guts to try and help Kaylock when he was going to lose control,” Frankenstein replied. Then she pointed her knife at Rachel. “But that may not help him control his transformations.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “But what will?”

Frankenstein went on frosting the second to the last sweet. “Have you sensed any pattern that occurs when he transforms?”

Rachel replied, “Well, Jasper hasn't told me of–”

“Have _you_ sensed any pattern?” Frankenstein emphasized.

“Uh...” Rachel thought about it. “He seemed to be under stress when he was transforming yesterday – and I think the same was at the Bazaar, he had been exposed to insanity...”

Frankenstein set down her sweet, while Rachel picked up the last one. “Stress, then, may cause it,” Frankenstein deduced. “He has to be exposed to a lot of stress before he can fully control it. Much like demon weapons have to go through some trial and error before making a full transformation.”

“But won't that hurt him?” Doddle said. He had finished his work, and was now listening to the conversation.

Rachel watched Frankenstein cross her arms. “...You know, the Creature and I could not always resonate. Miss Rachel, you're a weapon. Have you ever rejected someone's soul wavelength before?”

“No, Hyde and I have always been able to resonate,” Rachel said. “I've never had any partners besides him.”

“Lucky.” Frankenstein then uncrossed her arms. “When a meister and a weapon cannot fully resonate, their souls experience a rejection reaction of sorts. The weapon becomes hard to handle. In my case, the Creature became so cold that I could not lift him. It was so painful.”

“Then...why did you subject yourself to that?” Rachel asked.

Frankenstein looked down at her hands. “I had done something wrong by my creation. Taking responsibility and becoming his meister was the least that I could do. So I continued to wield him, even if it felt like my fingers would fall off. And we continued like that, until we had forged a bond by ourselves. Then it didn't hurt anymore.”

She then shook her head. “What I mean to say is that maybe we have to subject Jasper to the same fire, to get him to coax the wolf out to avoid pain rather than have it come out after he experiences the pain. That way he'll know the perfect time to transform.” A pause. “At least, that's the theory.”

Doddle nodded, and then looked at Rachel. “Rachel, are you done?”

“Ah, yes,” Rachel said, hastily placing the last sweet down. “All ready.”

“Good,” Doddle said. “now we're ready. Miss Frankenstein, thank you so much. You can go now, Rachel and I will handle it.”

“Finally,” Frankenstein said, removing her apron. Rachel watched her as she prepared to leave, then decided it couldn't hurt to try.

“Wait,” she said, and Frankenstein turned towards her. “What is it?”

“If you think that's the way Jasper can learn, then...” Rachel sucked in a breath, before continuing, “...you have to help us help him.”

Frankenstein looked confused. “Vhy ask me? You have many Lodgers, who are skilled in the art of transformation. You should go to them instead.”

“There are some of the Lodgers who would indeed try it, judging by what you learn from transformation,” Doddle said, removing his own apron. “But others won't, not while he's just beginning to learn spatial magic and might have big things ahead of him.”

“Vhy is he putting spatial magic before transformation, anyway?” Frankenstein asked, and Doddle shrugged. He looked at Rachel. “Has he told you, Rachel?”

“It's not like he would trust me with that kind of stuff,” Rachel replied. “He just suddenly decided that he wanted to learn spatial magic.”

“Well, whatever the reason is, we should help Jasper with his transformation magic as well,” Doddle said. “I'm not saying that any method's more in the right, or that Jasper's current neglect of transformation magic poses a very serious threat. But we could consider Frankenstein's theory and hope nothing goes wrong.”

The three of them were then in silence for a little while, before a large round of applause sounded outside the room. Doddle looked at it, and then moved quickly towards Frankenstein.

“Quickly, before Jekyll sees you,” he said, leading her to the door. Frankenstein seemed to be of the same mind, and was hurrying towards the door as well.

“Uh, Miss,” Rachel called after her, as footsteps came into the hall, “please do think about helping Jasper.”

Frankenstein shot her one last glance, and nodded, before hurrying out the door. Rachel stared for a few seconds, and then the visitors came in.

 


	18. The Exhibition Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callista does some snooping, Frankenstein gets suspicious, and Jasper encounters a problem at his exhibit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we're nearly at the part where something goes terribly wrong. Oh, joy.

Callista had gone to Jekyll's office unnoticed by the crowd, and when she began to pick the lock, she was sure neither Jekyll nor Lanyon had seen her. With a click, she turned the doorknob and made her way inside.

She closed the door behind her before looking around the office. There was an array of glass cabinets around the room, containing various doctors' items as well as what appeared to be a collection of alchemist's materials for brewing potions.

She felt like examining those, but information on Hyde came first, so she went over to Jekyll's desk instead and looked it over. There were newspaper clippings: some about new witches and sorcerers coming into London, some about Hyde's vigilante exploits (without naming him, of course), and a little about various Lodgers getting into fights with meisters and weapons from the DWMA.

There was nothing new about the newspaper clippings she saw, but she did find some bills for repairs to pubs (no wonder they needed her money), and a clipping about a certain Lodger caught her eye. She took that clipping and put it into a large secret pocket in her dress. That would be for later reading.

Next, Callista looked at the drawers within the desk. She opened them one by one, but nothing was of interest until she reached the bottom drawer.

It had a lock on it.

The corner of Callista's mouth turned upwards as she began to pick it. What could be inside? She wasn't expecting to find anything grand, but she did know that if it was locked up, she could probably be able to use it.

The drawer opened, and Callista opened it to see...

...clothes.

Callista pulled a shirt out from the drawer and examined it. She could probably fit into it, but it didn't seem big enough for Jekyll. She blinked and sniffed the shirt. It didn't smell of Jekyll's peppermint, but rather of lemongrass, and sandalwood, maybe?

(Wait, why did she remember so clearly that Jekyll smelled like peppermint?)

A little confused, she shook that small thought aside, and rummaged further into the drawer. There were green vests and white ties; most of the clothes within looked like they were tailored for someone smaller than Jekyll. It was only when she took out a cape that was riddled with holes and torn at the edges that she finally understood – these were Hyde's clothes.

Hyde's clothes in Jekyll's office? Now _that_ was scandalous. She took the cape fully out of the drawer, and stuffed the other clothes back in. What could this mean? She had never thought of Jekyll as that way, but he was a bachelor, and he did seem to like Hyde an awful lot...

The doorknob turned, and Callista shut the drawer before ducking under the desk, cape in tow. She heard the creak of the door opening, and footsteps coming into the office, before the door closed. Callista covered her mouth with a hand. She was tempted to look out and see who it was, but the idea was too risky. There was pacing around the room, before someone spoke.

“I told you, I have to be here for the whole Exhibition. You know that this night is very important to me.”

That was Jekyll's voice. What was going on – and who was he talking to? Callista had heard only one set of footsteps. There was a pause for a moment.

“People _will_ miss me if I went out for even a minute,” Jekyll went on. “Not to mention I know you won't stay out for 'just one minute'.” Another pause. “Yes, you are sort of predictable.”

Callista's eyes darted over her shoulder, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to see anything. What in the world was going on? She never took Jekyll to be the type to talk to himself. In fact, she thought he was much like her – lies and a pretty face covering a dark secret.

She pursed her lips as he continued, “I'm not letting you out tonight, and that's _final..._ Fine, maybe tomorrow night, if that will make you feel better.” Some silence, before a sigh. “I'm glad we've reached an understanding.”

Footsteps walked further away, until the door opened again, and then closed. At this point, Callista allowed herself to breathe audibly again.

Alright, now that was sort of strange. Strange of Jekyll, at least. Callista crawled out from under the desk, and peeked out. Yes, he was gone. She sighed in relief, and looked down at the cape in her hand, before smirking.

This night was going to be fun, after all.

Now she had to wait for the perfect time – and the perfect magic user.

 

* * *

 

Frankenstein had to push her way through a crowd for a few moments as many groups were going to various rooms. After finally pushing her way out of the crowd, she was just glad no one had called attention to her shabby appearance – she had forgotten that she had to blend in for a moment. She felt quite out of place, anyway, in this building full of people, and she pined for her and the Creature's home in the wilderness.

From where she was now standing, she could see Jekyll entering his office, and Lanyon was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had gone in another direction. That was good – if she could pass Jekyll's office in time, then she would be back on her way to her and the Creature's new room.

Frankenstein made her way to the door of the office, and heard a voice from within. Jekyll was talking, but she didn't hear anyone else responding. She didn't care about that, though. She pressed herself against the wall, and then moved to dash past the doors.

She had done so just as the doors opened, with Jekyll walking out and closing the doors behind him. Frankenstein froze – she was standing right there – but Jekyll didn't seem to see her. He only walked down the hall, towards a few of the Lodgers' rooms. She watched him leave, and then sighed in relief.

And then the door opened again.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she did the same, running as fast as she could towards the other end of the hall. Her footsteps seemed to be quite loud, though, because the moment she ducked behind a wall, she heard someone call, “Excuse me!”

Frankenstein's eyes darted in the direction of Jekyll's office. Damn, she knew she had been caught. She didn't know that voice, though – it was a woman. Had a woman been in Jekyll's office? But why would Jekyll, being the perfect gentleman that he was, leave her behind?

She peered out, and was surprised to see a woman staring back at her. They both sprang back, alarmed to have been in close proximity to the other. The other woman was the first to come closer.

“Uh...madam?” she asked sweetly. “I noticed you running away. Is everything alright?”

Frankenstein looked at the woman. She put on her English accent. “No, no, it's fine, you..surprised me, that's all.”

“Ah, then forgive me,” the woman said. “It was not my intention to scare you.”

“I can sense that,” Frankenstein replied.

The woman's smile was charming, and she was beautiful – she reminded Frankenstein of a girl she knew – but there was something almost unnerving about her. The woman nodded at her, and was about to walk away when Frankenstein spoke once more.

“What were you doing in Jekyll's office?” Frankenstein asked.

The woman stopped as well, and turned to look at her. “Pardon?” she said.

“You came out from Dr. Jekyll's office,” Frankenstein went on. “Shouldn't you be with the rest of the crowd, at the exhibits?”

The woman smiled once more. “I was just talking with Dr. Jekyll. You know how it is at such a time.”

“Jekyll would have followed after you,” Frankenstein pressed. “Unless...you weren't supposed to be in his office?”

The woman's face darkened, just a little.

“Are you accusing me of lying, madam?” the woman said, though with only the mildest hint of anger in her voice. “I do not lie. Maybe Dr. Jekyll had something on his mind. And... shouldn't you be with the rest as well?”

Frankenstein tried to hold the woman's gaze. “I'm not here for the Exhibition... in fact, I live here. I am a helper.”

“I see,” the woman said. She turned away. “Well, madam, I had best be taking my leave.” And with that, she left. Frankenstein watched her leave, before walking back towards the hallway, on her way to the stairs to the third floor.

She had lived a long life. And because of it, she knew the look of murderous intent when she saw it.

That woman definitely wanted to kill her.

Frankenstein thought about it a little more, before someone cleared his throat behind her.

“...No,” she said.

“Yes,” Lanyon said. “Turn around.”

 

* * *

 

Jekyll went into one room. He saw various creatures in their cages, though some had more room to roam than others. There were also people looking at said creatures, as well as others talking to each other about the exhibits. Still more were crowding around a certain young man, asking him various questions.

“And is it true that wild phoenixes are more dangerous compared to mud phoenixes?” one woman asked.

“I wouldn't say it that way,” Jasper said, trying to stand up straight. “Uh, wild phoenixes do tend to attack more than the domesticated mud phoenix, but both phoenixes only do so out of self defense. Wild phoenixes are actually more afraid of humans than mud phoenixes; that's why they attack more.”

A man who had been looking at another display now raised his hand. “Have you ever actually seen a fairy before?”

“I've met one before, in the wilderness outside London,” Jasper said. “Fairies don't like to be sought out; they rather like to encounter humans by chance. But the one I met was very friendly.”

The man seemed to be satisfied with this answer. Jekyll watched Jasper with pride – he was encountering his own in the Exhibition. Even if he seemed a little nervous, he was definitely trying to overcome it. Maybe the magic lessons from the Lodgers had given him confidence.

“So we take it that even though you aren't a sorcerer, you have been living among witches and sorcerers,” another man said. “Do you think we have any reason to be afraid of them?”

Several of the people in the room nodded their agreement, and Jasper looked like he was going to lose his composure a little. Jekyll walked forward, and that was when Jasper caught his gaze. Jekyll took a moment, and then smiled encouragingly at him. He watched as Jasper then straightened up, and cleared his throat.

“I've lived with the residents here at the Society for about two weeks now,” Jasper began. “They do many things that you would expect witches and sorcerers to do. They... um, destroy things, and they get into fights with meisters and weapons. And - and they live by their own rules. But I don't think you should be afraid of them.

“I say that... because they're so nice to other people,” he continued. “Not just to me, but to our staff, and Dr. Jekyll and Dr. Lanyon; and they don't hold any grudges against the meisters and weapons that hunt them down. In my opinion... in my opinion, they're just looking out for their own. That's why they fight back when they're attacked, that's why they do what they want. Because they want to live life to the fullest, and I think we should let them.”

The crowd stared at him, before one person started clapping. Then another, and another, until the people watching him were all clapping. Jekyll couldn't help but join in the applause as well.

“How can we trust his opinion?” Another's voice carried over the crowd. “He's a _werewolf_!”

Several people in the crowd gasped, and others – including Jekyll – looked to the person who had said this. It was Seire, who was crossing his arms and looking at Jasper disapprovingly. Jekyll looked from him to Jasper. Jasper looked like he was sinking lower into his nervousness.

_I'm not surprised,_ Hyde said. _The wolflet just said something about witches being nice._

“Your soul may be classed as human, but your _mind_ is different,” Seire went on, coming closer to Jasper. “Didn't you go on a rampage before you came to this Society?”

“It – it was an accident,” Jasper said. “I'm sorry.”

“Is an apology a reason to trust you?” Seire asked. Jasper shrank back.

_Quick, Jekyll, what are you going to do? Be a hero again?_

Jekyll wasted no time in coming forward and stepping between Seire and Jasper. “Why, Mr. Seire,” he said, “what seems to be the problem?”

“The problem here is that we don't know whether or not this boy can be trusted to give a proper judgment of the residents of this Society,” Seire said. “I mean, who are we to trust? This werewolf, or a person who has the credibility he doesn't?”

Jekyll glanced at Jasper. He looked like he was going to cry.

“With all due respect, Mr. Seire, I think it's because he's lived with our witches and sorcerers that he can provide a trustworthy opinion on them,” Jekyll replied calmly, turning back to Seire. “As for the fact that he's a werewolf, I think that an outcast would know about outcasts, wouldn't you?”

“But his mind – it may not be completely human,” Seire retorted.

Jekyll's response was to hold up a hand, and transform it into a sword blade. “Need I remind you that we are not wholly human, either, Mr. Seire,” he said. “I simply do not think one's mind is part weapon. I know mine isn't.”

Seire stared at Jekyll as he turned the blade back into a hand of flesh and bone. He frowned, but nodded in deference. “Of course, Doctor,” he said. “Just let your Lodgers speak for themselves next time.” Then he stood back, and blended back in with the crowd.

_That was actually pretty impressive,_ Hyde told him. _Never thought I'd live to see you grow a backbone and stand up to the Academy._

Jekyll knew that Seire didn't represent the Academy, even if he _was_ the Death Scythe in charge of Europe. Many others from the Academy would surely feel differently about Jasper and the Lodgers. They would, wouldn't they?

Jekyll looked one last time at Jasper – but Jasper still looked upset.

“Jasper?” Jekyll asked.

“Oh,” Jasper said. “Sorry. Can-can you excuse me for a while?”

“Of course,” Jekyll said. Jasper turned and walked away from the crowd, and Jekyll watched after him.

Did... did he do something wrong?

_You probably did,_ said Hyde.

 


	19. The Exhibition Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Exhibition draws to a close - and as it does, so do the halcyon days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank all the people who helped me proofread the chapters of this fic (by tumblr url): runny-babbitt, scrinch-biscuit, closetosomethingreal-1337, wintersnow999, larus21, and for this last chapter, authorloremipsum! You guys are the best!
> 
> The next installment of this series, called The Ruin Of The Society, will come out sometime from March to April! (I'm not making any promises, though.)
> 
> And now, disaster.

The night went on without much of an incident. Many of the Lodgers had heard that Lanyon had caught Frankenstein out in the open at the start of the Exhibition, but she hadn't really done much interfering. (While the others talked, however, Doddle and Rachel were oddly silent on the matter.)

So Griffin didn't think that he had much to worry about when it came to the Exhibition. His display was well received by the people visiting, and they didn't think it was too strange when he demonstrated how he could turn invisible himself. He took that as a good sign.

Well, they only thing he had to worry about now was Archer.

What did he do wrong? He was only trying to help his partner open up. He hadn't expected that Archer wouldn't be partial to the idea of discussing what had happened. And now he hadn't seen Archer all night. What was going on?

Archer had helped Griffin through so many things during his stay at the Society, and he only wanted to return the favor. That's what friends did, right?

...Friends.

This current batch of visitors had included Callista, Griffin recognized, and therefore he guessed he shouldn't seem like the “troublemaker” that he had shown himself to be during their two meetings. He presented himself with the air of how his fellow (friendlier) Lodgers would, and answered questions with a little more tact. Once or twice he had caught Callista's eye, and the woman had seemed more than a little interested in what he had to say.

This went on until the presentation ended, and the current group of visitors left the room. Griffin moved to arrange some papers, before he heard footsteps coming towards him.

“Mr. Griffin,” Callista's voice said. Griffin looked up at her. “I thought you had left.”

“I didn't,” Callista said, clasping her hands together. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You could have asked me earlier.”

“This doesn't have much to do with your exhibit, Mr. Griffin.”

“Oh?”

“I was just wondering about something, yes,” Callista continued. “Can I speak to you alone, first? I require privacy.”

Griffin looked up as people started to enter the room. He felt like he should refuse her, but at the same time he wondered what Callista would want from one of the Lodgers. His curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled her aside, behind a display.

Once their privacy was ensured, Griffin turned his attention to her. “Well? What do you want?” He guessed he sounded a little irritable – he was eager to get back to work – but Callista didn't seem to mind. At the very least, she maintained her smile.

“I just get the feeling you don't mind being invisible when nobody else has the abiliity to be,” she said.

Griffin shrugged. “Well, what's not to like? I get to be invisible at will. Barely anyone knows when I'm in a room, because I can enter and exit when I want. There are some disadvantages that come up every now and then, but if you know how to use it–”

He stopped. Callista was staring at him with a dreamy look on her face, and he didn't know if he should point it out.

“...Miss Redrowe, are you alright?” he tried.

“You're unusual, and yet you're so comfortable being so,” she finally said.

Griffin tilted his head, just slightly. “What do you find entertaining about that?”

“I wouldn't call it entertaining, so much as charming,” Callista told him. “And you are a right charming man.”

Alarm bells rang in Griffin's head. He tried to shake them out of his head. “That's the first time anyone's called me that,” he said, narrowing his eyes and taking a step back.

Callista only walked closer to him. “I don't believe that's true. You really are charming. You differ from everyone from head to toe, with your white hair and pale skin. And you're an outcast, from both witches and humans. But you don't seem to mind it at all.”

She placed her hands on Griffin's shoulders. The alarm bells rang even louder than before.

“I don't mind it, either.”

Without warning, before he could back away into sight, she leaned in and kissed him.

A strange sensation made its way from his mouth to his chest, and he felt her pushing towards him. He glanced down at her, before placing his hands on her shoulders, and gently pushing her away from him.

In the corner of his vision, Griffin saw something move behind Callista, but it was gone before he could examine it. He looked back at the lady in front of him.

“...What are you doing?” Griffin asked her.

“I'm kissing you,” Callista replied simply.

Griffin released her shoulders. “Why are you kissing me?”

Callista shrugged. “Because I like you.”

His jaw dropped. “N-no one likes me,” he said, dumbfounded.

“I like you,” she repeated, firmer.

Griffin didn't know how to react to this. He cleared his throat, eyes darting back to the people outside. They were probably wondering why no one was around to show them around his display. He looked back at her again.

“Oh, do pardon me, that was a frightfully brazen thing of me to do,” Callista said, putting a hand to her mouth and giggling a little. “You must be shocked that I would do something like that.”

“Yes.” Griffin said flatly. He tried to return to his uncaring demeanor for a moment. “This isn't a good time for me. I have to get back to the Exhibition.”

“You haven't given me an answer yet,” Callista said. “I'm sorry, I know this is a bad time for you, but at least tell me what you'll do with me after this.”

Griffin looked fully away this time. “I...I can't return your feelings. I don't – look, I know you must have summoned courage to tell me this, and I guess it is flattering that you like me, but...”

Callista stared at him for a moment, before smiling sadly. “Of course,” she said. “You're in love with someone else, aren't you?”

“I...” Griffin trailed off. That wasn't true, was it? And yet he was silent for longer than he'd liked. Callista's gaze pierced him, and he finally shook his head. “No. I'm not."

“Of course, it's fine if you don't want to admit it to me,” Callista said. “Who am I, anyway? Just a woman you've met and spoken to only twice.”

She began to walk away from him. “I only pray that you will not speak of this to anyone else,” she said. “You would do well to protect a lady's honor. And I wish you all the best with the woman you love.”

And before Griffin could say anything else, she went out from behind the display and back out into the crowd. Griffin watched her leave, and then turned to lean against the back of the display.

He...was in love? No, he just didn't feel that way about Callista. Besides, to kiss her back, to fall for her charms – that would be like betraying something.

Betraying what?

Betraying...Archer.

Callista was wrong on one point, at least.

 

* * *

 

Unknown to Griffin, the movement he had seen earlier was Archer.

Archer had seen Callista kiss Griffin, and he had walked away because he wasn't sure how to react.

He had felt slighted, even if just a little.

But he had no reason to be, right? Callista was only showing affection, and Griffin was returning in kind. He was, wasn't he?

Something sank in Archer's stomach. The noise of the people in the room crowding around Griffin's exhibit only made him feel worse. Why was he feeling bad? He should be happy for his friend! He had found a girl, and a right charming one, at that!

But...he had been contented with Griffin not finding anyone. At least that could be chalked up to being a good friend that didn't judge his friend's love life, or lack of it, rather.

So why, now that Griffin had found someone, did it feel all wrong?

He didn't know how long he had been standing in the middle of the room, when someone came up behind him, and sighed. The sound caused Archer to stop and turn around.

It was Callista.

And what had taken him aback was that she was not wearing her usual serene smile. No – in fact, she seemed rather troubled.

Finally, she noticed him staring down at her, and looked up at him as well. “Oh!” she said, pasting her smile back on. “I-I didn't see you there, sir. Mr. Archer, am I correct?”

“Y-yes, that's me,” Archer said. There could be only one reason why she looked so disconcerted. “Miss Redrowe...are you alright?”

The moment the words escaped his mouth, he felt like he out to clap a hand over it. But Callista only tiredly laughed. “Everything is fine, Mr. Archer. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, no reason,” Archer quickly said. He hoped that would get the woman to not be suspicious of him.

Callista looked at him softly. “There's always a reason. Do you want to take this outside?”

Archer glanced around – he saw that Griffin had come out from behind the exhibit, and was now answering a few questions. He had come here to see Griffin initially, but now he didn't know if he could face the man without finding out something for himself.

“Sure,” he said.

He and Callista walked out of the room, but not too far from the crowd – he knew a single woman of her status couldn't be seen alone with someone like him. Callista then turned to face him, and he did the same.

“Now,” Callista said, “why were you concerned about me? Did-did I look sad?” The smile she had put on faded, just a little.

Archer wasn't sure what was the right thing to do in this situation. But the sad look on her face evoked some pity in him. “You did seem a little sad, Miss Redrowe,” he said.

“Oh, I did, didn't I,” she said. “I may be getting a tad personal, but I humiliated myself earlier.” She put her hands in front of herself. “I ought not to tell you, though.”

“You kissed Griffin and he rejected you?”

Whatever was left of Callista's smile dropped, and her eyes widened. This time Archer really did clap his hand over his mouth.

“How did you know that?” she asked in a low tone.

Archer twiddled his fingers together. “I-I didn't mean to say that – I didn't mean to see it, I just walked in on you! I meant to speak with Griffin, and–”

“I see, I see.” Callista cut in. Then she put a hand over her mouth. “Forgive me, Mr. Archer. I was thrown off balance for a moment.” She sighed again. “Who am I to him, anyway? I suppose I fell too easily into the thrill of romance. I'm sure a good man like you would understand if I wanted to keep this a secret.”

Archer was a bit surprised at how honest she was being. Then again, he had been a little tactless at saying that he had seen them, and she was being more careful with her words than he was, anyway. “I'm sorry, Miss Redrowe,” Archer tried. “But you're...a good woman. You'll eventually find happiness somewhere, I think.”

Callista finally smiled at him again, lowering her hand. “You're so kind, Mr. Archer,” she said. “Then again, I would expect the weapon living with witches and sorcerers to be so.”

Archer grinned, just a tiny bit. “You flatter me.” He couldn't believe she remembered that detail from her visit to the Society – then again, he guessed that was pretty memorable.

The woman in front of him put her hand lower and rested it at her side. “Any person would be lucky to have you as a partner.” Then she looked away. “But I have to go – I have places to be, and more things to see. In fact, I don't believe I've seen your exhibit yet.”

“Down the hall; you'll find it at that last door,” he said. “I would join you, but Bird insists I take a break.”

Callista put her hands behind her back. “I don't blame him. You have to talk to your friend Griffin, don't you?” She turned around. “I'll let you speak with him, of course.”

She then walked away, down the hall as Archer directed. He then turned back to the room in front of him.

Well, so Griffin didn't like Callista. And what's more, the woman didn't seem so bad either.

He felt more relieved than he should have been.

 

* * *

 

It was time for the final act of the Exhibition – Luckett and Sinnett's display.

Lanyon supposed he should be a little more excited about it, but he only felt a little tired. Actually, a mix of contented and tired. Then again, who could blame him? They had all stayed up until the late hours of the evening, showcasing the displays to various people. And now it was drawing to a close. He only hoped that what the newspaper writers he had seen within the crowd would give them a good critique.

The sound of footsteps came up to him, and he saw Jekyll walking towards him. When their eyes met, Jekyll walked a little faster, and Lanyon felt a little thrill. His friend looked quite lively, as lively as a sleep-deprived man could get.

On his way towards Lanyon, Jekyll bumped into someone coming towards him – it was Luckett, possibly on his way to the roof. The man waved a hand in apology, and Jekyll nodded at him in return as he went on his way, rushing towards the stairs. Jekyll finished walking up to Lanyon, and Lanyon raised an eyebrow.

“So he's not taking the shortcut?” Lanyon asked.

“Oh, I think by now he's learned he doesn't need to transform all the time to reach the highest floor quickly,” Jekyll said. “Not that he doesn't still do it, but lately he's been using the stairs more often.”

“Perhaps he doesn't want the railings to combust again!” Lanyon said, laughing a little.

Jekyll only silently nodded, and that was when Lanyon stopped. “Come on, Henry,” he said. “What's on your mind? You can tell me as we walk.”

“Oh...oh, alright,” Jekyll said, and with that the two of them began to walk towards the stairs.

“So,” Lanyon began, “what are you thinking about?”

“It's just that...I have absolutely no idea why Miss Frankenstein would want to go out against her promise,” Jekyll said. “I thought she really would keep her word.”

“Well, she lied to you about her identity when you met her,” Lanyon told Jekyll. “I wouldn't put it past her.”

Jekyll sighed. “I just thought that maybe if we gave her a chance, she would do as we asked.”

“Not all people learn from second chances.” Lanyon raised a finger. “Frankenstein might keep on lying, and Hyde might keep on hunting kishin eggs.”

The two of them walked down the stairs as Jekyll sighed. “Robert, you don't need to keep talking about Hyde that way. He's a good person.”

“As good as someone who spits in the face of the DWMA can be,” Lanyon said, throwing his hands up. “You do seem to attract a lot of troublemakers, Henry.”

“I prefer to call them the rejected ones,” Jekyll returned.

Lanyon rolled his eyes. “That's just another way of calling yourself the hero, which no one is. Besides, people already think you a busybody.”

“What? Since when are people calling me that?”

Lanyon could only chuckle softly, and they walked around the glass dome holding the circle of runes in the middle of the atrium. The two men made their way to the main doors, before opening them to see the crowd, now spilled out on the street, waiting to see Luckett and Sinnett's fireworks display.

“After you, my meister,” Jekyll said in a theatrical manner, motioning for Lanyon to step through the doors. Lanyon took the offer, and walked through the doorway.

Jekyll smiled as he walked through the doorway. Lanyon happened to catch his smile as he looked over his shoulder, and the sight put him at ease. It was as if Jekyll had saved that smile only for him after such a stressful evening.

The two of them then walked out in front of the crowd, and Jekyll addressed them. Lanyon watched him do so, not planning to make another speech. As good as he was with making them, it was simply not what he felt like doing at the moment.

Other than that, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Well, it would be fine. He and Jekyll could handle it, if it came.

_Stay away. I'm not letting you do anything to my meister and get away with it._

...More like Jekyll could handle it.

_But if you vant to get your ass kicked vhile trying to vin without magic or a veapon, then so be it._

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt like he would be lost without Jekyll by his side. For Jekyll, he had quit studying at the Academy. For Jekyll, he had fought tooth and nail to get his father to support the Society. For Jekyll, he had turned himself into one of those rejected, at least by his father, if not by the rest of the city.

And that only attracted him to Jekyll even more.

“Robert,” Jekyll said, and Lanyon snapped out of his thoughts to look at him. He held out a hand. “Let's go and watch the fireworks.”

Lanyon took it almost immediately. “Of course, Henry.”

They both went down the steps, and stood in front of the crowd, turning towards the building. There, everyone on the street looked up at the sky. The first firework flew into the air.

Lanyon could tell the audience was enthralled by the display as the next fireworks flew up, judging by the excited noises they were making. He smiled contentedly, and looked to his side, to Jekyll.

Jekyll was looking right at him.

The two of them looked away just as quickly once they had processed this, and Lanyon felt his face heat up. Why were they looking away? This was nothing unusual, right? He took a breath, and looked back at Jekyll.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” Jekyll returned.

He and Lanyon looked at each other some more, before they both grinned wider. “Forgive me, Robert, I didn't mean to make things awkward,” Jekyll went on.

“No, no you didn't,” Lanyon said, waving a hand. He looked back up at the sky. “We impressed a lot of people tonight, didn't we?”

Jekyll put his hands in his pockets. “It's a far cry from when I was explaining to the developers what I wanted to do with this lot. I think their eyes were as wide as saucers!”

Lanyon looked on as Jekyll continued to talk. He felt he had done good by his weapon partner. And after all this, all they had to worry about was the Tournament.

The Tournament...how far away was that? They needed to practice. Lanyon did want to defeat every single opponent that they would face, after all.

Even if one of them was his father.

The last firework shot up in the sky, in a brilliant shower of blue and purple. Lanyon watched it for a while, before the lights faded away. Then he listened to the sound of some people applauding.

“What a marvelous sight,” Jekyll commented. “I ought to tell Mr. Luckett and Mr. Sinnett so.” His statement was then punctuated by a yawn, which Lanyon caught.

“In that case, you ought to tell them tomorrow,” Lanyon said. “It's dreadfully late. I'll take you back to your home.”

“You mustn't,” Jekyll replied. “I'm not even tired...” He then yawned again, and Lanyon could see that his eyelids looked a little droopy. He sighed.

“Yes, you are. Rest assured, we'll take care of it in the morning.” He patted Jekyll on the shoulder. “Come along. We have much to do tomorrow.”

“If you insist, Robert,” Jekyll said, sounding a little more tired.

As the crowd began to disperse, Lanyon led Jekyll towards his carriage. Then he smiled at Jekyll once more, even if the man wasn't looking.

 

* * *

 

While the fireworks were going off outside, Jasper was standing inside the Society, watching said fireworks from the windows on the highest floor. He sighed, and hung his head.

He hadn't been able to stand up for himself again. Jekyll had convinced another person that he was good, and he was really grateful for that, but he didn't feel like he should have given Jekyll so much trouble.

Seire was right, anyway. His mind was no longer fully human – there was a wolf within him, hungry for control. And werewolves were different from weapons. Would two weeks even be enough for him to be able to control his transformations? If he practiced everyday – but how would he be sure the wolf wouldn't take over?

“Jasper?”

Jasper looked up just as the last of the fireworks went off. It was Rachel, standing by, a concerned look on her face. When he stared, though, she began to try to smile.

“Don't mind me, I'm just wondering how you are,” she said, a little nervously. “And just standing uselessly by.”

Jasper exhaled. “Rachel.” He turned away, and wasn't exactly surprised to hear her come closer. “The Exhibition's over.”

“It is,” Rachel nodded.

Jasper leaned lower on the railing. “Now I just have to wait a few weeks, and I'll say goodbye to London and this Society.”

“Don't say that,” Rachel said. “You might come back, who knows?” She looked at him. “I believe you can master your transformations in two weeks' time.”

“And even if I do, what then?” Jasper asked. “How do I convince them that I can stay in London? Stay...” He looked down. “...Stay with all of you.”

He sighed. “I don't know if I can return home because of my condition, and being with you all has been a lot of fun. I just want to stay somewhere...where no one thinks I'm a monster.” He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe they're right.”

“You're not a monster,” Rachel told him. She then smiled a little. “You know, when I first started having weapon partners, I thought I was one too. No one told me otherwise...until Jekyll.” She looked at him. “And I want to pass it on to you, because it's true. No one is a monster.”

“You really think I can make it through the Academy?” Jasper asked.

“Sure,” Rachel replied.

Jasper found it in himself to smile at her, and he looked down at her hand on the railing.

He wanted to hold her hand.

Wait, what?

There was a certain smell mixed in with the fireworks' gunpowder. Jasper sniffed, and sniffed again. It smelled like...iron?

No – not just iron.

“What's the matter?” Rachel asked, and Jasper looked at her. “You haven't been handling raw meat recently, have you?” he asked.

Rachel looked down at herself. “Not since our early dinner. I washed out most of the blood, but–” She paused. “Why?” she asked hesitantly.

“Rachel,” he whispered, “I smell blood.”

Her eyes widened. “Where? Can you smell where it's coming from?”

Jasper sniffed the air a little more. “I don't know, it-it's mingled with gunpowder.”

Rachel looked up at the ceiling. “There's gunpowder on the roof,” she said. “Maybe it's coming from there.”

Jasper looked up, full of dread. He smelled so much blood – why was there so much of it?

Rachel spotted the ladder to the roof, and headed towards it. Jasper followed after her, and watched as she climbed up before opening the trapdoor and looking out.

She gasped.

“Oh, no!” she said. “Jasper!”

She climbed higher and went onto the roof, then helped Jasper up so that he could see what she had seen.

When he did see it, he couldn't help gasping as well.

There was a dead body on the roof.

His limbs were twisted about, and as Jasper could smell, there was a fresh puddle of blood below the corpse. His eyes were open, and his face was frozen in a fearful expression. In his hands was a certain tattered cape, and on the ground was a large bloody knife.

It was Luckett.

Rachel put her hands up to her mouth, and Jasper stared until he felt he couldn't stare anymore.

Luckett...

He inhaled, and exhaled, quicker and quicker, but that didn't stop him from feeling dizzy or his vision from clouding. His knees suddenly grew weak, and his eyes rolled back into his skull as he collapsed.

 


End file.
